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CfiPXRIGHT DEPOSm 



A Successful Calamity 



By CLARE KUMMER 




SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 W«t 3dtli Sl^ New York 



The Touch-Down 

A eomctiy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, but 
ft&y nunber of characters can be iatrcxluced in the ensembles. Co»- 
ttimce modem. One interior scene throughout the pkijr. Time, 2H 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football EUeven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents conaected therewith. 

"The Touch-Down" has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistake in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it a« a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents. 

Hurry^ Huity^ Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twonty-one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative's million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram- 
meled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap sttch as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity GDach 

A three-act plar of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy's room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, "Bob" Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a "^read" in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who ift putting him through college. Aunt Serena, "a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world," has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
kas received "a pink card," which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
•oUcsre life. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the "Prom" and the classroom, makes a story of 
4rainattc interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 
•oDege life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
•eficge sof^s and "stunts." Price, 30 Cents. 

(Th» Above Ar© Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 3S-^ West 3Stli Str««t, Nsw Yec% City 

nA ExpRcit Ofscripttve CataloKUC Malted Frif « ftwpnst 



A SUCCESSFUL 
CALAMITY 

A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS 

By 
CLARE KUMMER 






Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 
All Rights Reserved 

CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
that "A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY," being fully pro- 
tected under the copyright laws of the United States, 
Great Britain and Canada, is subject to a royalty, and 
anyone presenting the play without the consent of the 
owners or their authorized agents will be liable to the 
penalties by law provided. Application for amateur act- 
ing rights must be made to Samuel French, 28-20 West 
38th Street, New York City. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

38-30 West 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






Especial notice should be taken that the possession of 
this book without a valid contract for production first 
having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right 
or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play 
publicly or in private for gain or charity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performance, representation, produc- 
tion, recitation, or public reading may be given except by 
special arrangement with Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th 
Street, New York. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment 
of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each perform- 
ance, payable to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, 
New York, one week before the date when the play is 
given. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play: "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel 
French of New York." 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for 
any infringement of the author's rights, as follows : 

"Section 4966 : — Any person publicly performing or rep- 
resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which 
copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the 
proprietor of said dramatic or musical compositions, or his 
heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, 
such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not 
less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dol- 
lars for every subsequent performance, as to the court 
shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and 
representation be wilful and for profit, such person or 
persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon con- 
viction shall be imprisoned for a neriod not exceeding one 
year."~U. S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. 



©CLO 63030 



DEC -8 ^22 



The following is a copy of the playbill of the first per- 
formance of "A Successful Calamity," Monday evening, 
February 5th, 1917. 

BOOTH THEATRE, NEW YORK 

ARTHUR HOPKINS 

PRESENTS 

A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

A Comedy in Two Acts 

By 

CLARE KUMMER 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Henry Wilton William Gillette 

Emmie Estelle Winwood 

Marguerite. Ruth Findlay 

George Struthers Richard Sterling 

Clarence Rivers Roland Young 

Julie Partington Katherine Alexander 

Connors William Devereux 

PiETRO Rafaelo Manart Kippen 

Dr. Broodie Claus Bogel 

John Belden Charles Lane 

Albertine Mile. Marcelle 



i 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Henry Wilton. .A millionaire, who longs to spend 

a quiet evening at home. 
Emmie. ,His young second tvife. 
Marguerite .. Hw daughter. 
Eddie. .His son. 

George Struthers. .Marguerite's fiance. 
Clarence Rivers. .Another fiance. 
Julia Partington. .Eddie's fiancee. 
Connors. .The Butler. 

PiETRO Rafaelo. .An Italian portrait painter. 
Dr. 'Broodie . .The family physician. 
John Belden. .Wilton's partner. 
Albertine. .Mrs. Wilton's maid. 

ACT I 

Scene I : A living room in Mr. Wilton^s house. 

Shortly before dinner. 
Scene H : The same. Later in the evening. 

ACT n 

Scene I : The same. The next morning. 
Scene H : The same. Later in the morning. 

Time: The present. Place: New York City. 



ACT I 

Scene i : A living room in Mr. Wilton''s house 
on Park Avenue, New York. 

Large fireplace Right. Large window Left, 
with handsome curtains. Entrances from hall- 
way at hack Right and Left; arches hung with 
heavy curtains. Hallway at hack seen through 
arches. Back of Left arch in flat is seen the 
entrance to the Music Room; smaller arch with 
handsome curtains. Through Right Arch is 
seen stairway leading to upper story of house: 
practical. Console table between the arches 
with tray, decanter and sherry glasses, tele- 
phone, cigarettes, matches and ash tray. Seat 
surrounding front of fireplace. Small tabouret 
under seat. Large arm chair in front of fire- 
place. Round ottoman r.c. Large library table 
a little to left of centre. Long seat near table 
Left. Chair up left and chair down left centre. 
Smoking stand and cigars, etc., up Right near 
fireplace. Fire in fireplace. Salver with let- 
ters on center table. Tall screen up r.c. be- 
tween Right arch and Console table. Desk 
above fireplace r. 

At Rise : Connors enters l.u. and Albertine dis- 
covered at console table up c. 

Connors. What are you doing, Albertine? 

Albertine. Can't you see ? I am taking- a cigar- 
ette. I am dead if you want to know. I sit all the 
afternoon in that studio. I listen to M'sieu Rafaelo 

7 



8 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

recite to Madame the long poem while he paint, 
an' then they walk home together. So slow — I 
have to come on ahead. 

Connors. Cl.c.j You shouldn't take Mr. Ed- 
die's cigarettes, Albertine. 

Albertine. ("r.cJ What can I do? Madame 
does not smoke. It is very inconvenient for me. 

Connors. And you shouldn't come on ahead 
when you are accompanying Madame — it's not re- 
spectful. 

Albertine. Oh, no — I must do nothing. I am 
not a machine — anyway, I say, "Excuse me." Eet 
is spring. Connors — do you not know it? Do you 
expect me to walk along, slow like that — (Bus.) 
— alone? (Up to table up c.) 

Connors. Certainly. 

Albertine. If I am in Madame's place, I walk 
slow, too. (Albertine lights cigarette.) 

Connors. (Up to her) Don't light that cigar- 
ette in here, Albertine — what are you thinking of? 

Albertine. I am not thinking at all, Connors. 
You are so solemn. Close your eyes, Connors — 
perhaps you see the woods of England — the violets 
— a pair of blue eyes 

Connors. It's best not to have such thoughts 
when one is in service, Albertine — it's upsetting. 

Albertine. But that is very good, too. Eet is 
spring, Connors. (^Albertine exits r.v.) 

(Enter Marguerite l.u. She has been out and 
draws her gloves off as she crosses to Exit R.v.) 

Marguerite. I'll have my dinner in my room 
to-night, Connors, at seven. 

Connors As usual, Miss. 

Marguerite. Yes — as usual. And — er — I want 
the car at nine. Peters and the new limousine. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 9 

Connors. I think Mrs. Wilton is using it to- 
night, Miss. 

Marguerite. Oh, is she? Then Til have Jean 
and the Fiat. (Goes up to desk R.j Is father go- 
ing out to-night, Connors? 

Connors. (Sadly) I suppose so, Miss. 

Marguerite. Is he going out to dinner? 

Connors. Well, that's not settled, Miss. But 
he'll be going immediately after, if not before. 

Marguerite. Well — ^tell him I want to see him, 
Connors. I'm going to play bridge to-night and it's 
very important for me to see him before I go 

Connors. Yes, Miss — oh ! (He takes letter from 
silver tray on table.) Here's a letter for you. Miss. 

(Marguerite takes letter, looks at it and, coming 
hack, sits in chair in front of fireplace. Opens 
letter thoughtfully and reads. Connors exits 
R.u. Voices in hallway, Emmie and Racaelo, 
heard off. Rafaelo's voice reciting an Italian 
poem.) 

Rafaelo. (Off) 
Amore, amore che si m'hai ferita, 
Altro che amore non posso gridare; 

(Enter Emmie and Rafaelo l.u. They stroll in, 
he continuing to recite.) 

Amore, amore teco sono unita, 
Altro non posso che te abbracciare. 

Rafaelo. There's only a little more of it. It is 
so beautiful — I think he is one great poet. 

Emmie. Yes, but you see you know what it 
means, Pietro — that makes such a difference. I've 



lo A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

forgotten my Italian — I never knew very much. 
(To Margueritej Hello, dear. 

Marguerite. (Looking up, remains seated) 
Hello, Sweetie — Mr. Rafaelo. 

Rafaelo. How is Miss Marguerite? I just walk 
over from the studio with Mrs. Wilton. 

Emmie. You must go now, Pietro — at least I 
must — for I've to dress, you see, and have my hair 
done, and everything. 

Rafaelo. But I will come back. I take you to 
Mrs. Longley's to dinner — ^yes? 

Emmie. Only if Mr. Wilton doesn't go, Pietro. 

Rafaelo. He will not go — no, no — he will not go. 

Emmie. Oh, but perhaps he will, Pietro. 

'(Marguerite glances up, rattles her letter a little, 
as if disturbed.) 

Rafaelo. Well. I shall hope for the best ; 
I come back. (Up to exit l.) Good-bye. And 
to you, Miss Marguerite. (Exits l.u.) 

Emmie, (c.) Oh, what a long letter. Is it a 
wonderful love letter? (Going up R.u.j 

Marguerite. It's from George. 

Emmie. Oh! 

(Exit Emmie u.r. upstairs.) 

Emmie, (In hallway r.v.) Hello, Eddie. 

Eddie. (In hallway) Hello, Sweetie. (Enters 
R.u. He has a very slight edge on.) Hello. Father 
come in yet? 

Marguerite. No, not yet. (Eddie goes to cel- 
larette near console up c. and pours out a liberal 
drink. Marguerite turns and looks at him.) Eddie, 
I think it's perfectly disgusting to be in the con- 
dition that you're in, before dinner. 

Eddie. Do you? Well (Gulping down 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY ii 

drink.) I'm not going to eat any dinner, so before 
and after mean nothing to me. 

Marguerite. What is the matter with your face ? 

Eddie. Just what's always been the matter with 
it I guess — my features. 

Marguerite. But you're so ghastly white, Ed- 
die! 

Eddie. A little talk with you certainly does brace 
a fellow up. (Pouring out a second libation) For 
one thing 

Marguerite. (Shocked) Are you going to drink 
another ? 

Eddie. (Proving that he is) Julie's thrown me 
over this afternoon. (Down c.) 

Marguerite. Oh — that's it? 

Eddie. It's the last time I'll give her a chance to 
do it. It's gotten to be a habit with her now, and 
I'm tired of it. 

Marguerite. Well, I don't blame Julie — the way 
you've been going it with that Mrs. Laceby — ^an old 
married woman ! 

Eddie. She's not old. 

Marguerite. Why, she's thirty if she's a day! 
Everybody's been talking about it. 

Eddie. Why didn't you tell me? 

Marguerite. I haven't seen you for a week, 
Eddie. 

Eddie. That's the worst of living in the house 
with people — you never see them. You might have 
written to me. 

Marguerite, Don't be ridiculous — ^you must 
have known it. People always know things. Here 
— (Holding out letter) — Is George's ultimatum. I 
knew it was coming. 

Eddie. You're not going to let George go just for 
an ultimatum? 

Marguerite. He's coming to-night, for my final 



12 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

word — and I shan't even be here. I've had an en- 
gagement to play bridge to-night, for two weeks. 

Eddie. Two weeks ! That's quite a long game. 
Why not take old George along? 

Marguerite. George doesn't play cards. He 
doesn't do anything — since he had the plans drawn 
for our house in the country. He just sits and goes 
from room to room on a blue print — and expects 
me to. 

Eddie. Well, wouldn't you rather do that than 
have it all wrong? (Rings servants' bell r. of R.u. 
arch.) I suppose not. Women like to wait till it's 
too late and then kick about things. (Enter Con- 
nors R.U.J I'll have the new car to-night, Connors. 

Marguerite. Sweetie's going to use it. 

Connors. Yes, sir. Mrs. Wilton has ordered it. 

Eddie. Oh — well, then I'll have anything that's 
in the garage. 

Marguerite. Where's your car ? 

Eddie. It's down on a stone wall at Elmhurst, 
Long Island. 

Marguerite. Eddie! 

Eddie. Didn't you read about it in the paper? 

Marguerite. No — I don't have time to read the 
papers. 

Eddie. Well — ^it's there, anyhow. (To ConnorsJ 
The big Swede is coming to-night, Connors, to give 
me a rub — then I'm going to take a nap. 

Connors. Yes, sir. 

Eddie. At about nine o'clock a man will call with 
an envelope. You look in it and see that there are 
two tickets for the prize fight to-night. They'll be 
fifty dollars. Get the money from father. I've had 
a little bad luck to-day. 

Connors. Your father is going out, sir. 

Eddie. He isn't going out before he comes in, is 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 13 

he? (To MargueriteJ Maybe youVe got it, 
Midge ? 

Marguerite. No. I've to see father, too. (Exits 
R.u. up the stairs.) 

Eddie. Well, get it from father before he goes, 
Connors. (Crosses to arch r.u.J And don't wake 
me up before nine. (Exits up the stairs R.uJ 

(Enter Wilton l.c. A charming, tired gentleman 
in the early forties, whose hair is turning gray.) 

Wilton. Well, Connors — Fm home early to- 
night. 

Connors. Why, yes, sir — you are a little early 
for you, sir. (Takes Wilton's coat and hat, exits 
L.u. and returns. Wilton crosses r.) Oh! Mr. 
Belden will stop in on his way home, sir. 

Wilton. (r,c.) Belden? I just left him at the 
office. 

Connors, (c.) Yes, sir; he phoned something 
came up he wants to speak to you about. He says 
if you could wait in a little while before going out, 
he would appreciate it. 

Wilton. Well, I'd appreciate it myself to wait 
in a little while before going out. (Pause.) Every- 
body's out, I suppose? 

Connors. Why, no, sir — they've all come in. 
But they're all going out again, sir. 

Wilton. Of course — of course. (Going to fire- 
place) Am I going out to-night, Connors ? 

Connors. Why, yes, sir. You're to dine at the 
Longley's with Mrs. Wilton, sir — and if you won't 
do that, she will stop by for you at about nine and 
take you to the opera, sir. And then there's a re- 
ception after, I think, sir. 

Wilton, (r.) Oh! (Looks into fire and sighs) 



14 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Do you know, Connors — I have an idea that I'm get- 
ting old. 

Connors, ("r.c. Distressed) Oh, no, Mr. Wil- 
ton — no, you're a young man yet, sir. 

Wilton. Well, then why is it that I feel I would 
like to spend a quiet evening at home — dine with 
my family, perhaps play a game of cribbage and — 
go to bed ? 

Connors. Well, that's a nice way to do some- 
times, sir. 

Wilton. I should think it would be. I don't 
know anything about it, of course. 

Connors. Why, you're tired, sir — that's all's the 
matter. 

Wilton. Is that all that's the matter, Connors? 

Connors. Why, yes, sir. You go out every night 
— and you can't sleep mornings like the rest do, sir. 

Wilton. Do I go out every night, Connors? 

Connors. Why, you certainly do, sir. 

Wilton. Did I go out last night? 

Connors. Why, yes, sir. You went to the Cope- 
ly-Pritchards last night, sir. 

Wilton. So I did — ^but I don't remember much 
about it. 

Connors. It was a song recital, I think, sir — 
and charades. Mrs. Wilton took part. 

Wilton. Oh, yes, Mrs. Wilton took part. I 
think I went to sleep — in fact, I'm sure I did. But 
I didn't rest very well. I was in a camp chair. 

Connors. That's not like being in your own 
bed, sir. 

Wilton. No, it's not, Connors. And even if it 
were — you're not dressed for it. 

Connors. No, sir. A man that's used to his 
pajamas wants them, sir, when he's sleeping. 

Wilton. Yes, yes — and yet if you wore pajamas 
to a song recital people would think it odd. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 15 

Connors. (Going to cellar ette up c.) I suppose 
they would, sir. READY door-hell. 

Wilton. Oh, yes — they certainly would, Con- 
nors. Not realizing how appropriate the attire 
would be. (Sits wearily in chair.) 

Connors. (Who has poured out a glass of 
Sherry) Here, sir. This is very light. It will rest 
you, sir. (Gives Wilton the glass.) 

Wilton. Now, if I could only put on my old 
brown velvet smoking- jacket for dinner — and change 
into pajamas later, for the opera. 

Connors. Your old smoking-jacket is in the hall 
closet, sir. It's on its way downstairs. Mrs. Wil- 
ton ordered it thrown out. 

Wilton. Thrown out? 

Connors. Yes, sir. 

Wilton. Well, Connors, suppose we make a res- 
cue. (Connors goes out r.u.; returns immediately 
with velvet smoking jacket, which Wilton puts on. 
Connors takes his coat out in hallway ; comes hack 
immediately.) You just put it back in my wardrobe 
when I get through with it. 

Connors. Yes, sir. Oh, Mr. Eddie is expecting 
some tickets to-night, sir — ^they'll be fifty dollars — 
it's a prize fight, sir. He said I was to ask you for 
the money, 

Wilton. A prize fight! Does he go to those 
things? Well, that's rather encouraging. (Pulling 
out pockethook, he extracts a hill and gives it to 
CoNNORS.J Is Mr. Eddie dining at home to-night? 

Connors. He's not dining at all, sir. I don't 
think he's feeling quite well. 

Wilton. Qh! . . . 

Connors. And — Miss Marguerite wants to see 
you, too, sir. 

Wilton. (Hopefully) Is she going to be here 
for dinner? 



i6 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Connors. She's dining in her room, sir. 

BELL. 

Wilton. Oh, well I guess this will do, Connors. 
(Gives him another hill.) 

Connors. (Taking hill) Yes, sir. (Connors 
exits into hallway l.u. and returns immediately.) 
It's Mr. George Struthers, sir. 

Wilton. Who ? 

Connors. Mr. George Struthers. 

Wilton. He doesn't want to see me, does he? 

Connors. He seems to, sir. 

Wilton. Doesn't he want to see Miss Marguer- 
ite? 

Connors. He asked for you, sir. 

Wilton. All right, Connors. 

(Exit Connors into hallway l.u. Enter George 
Struthers, a good-looking, prosaic young man, 
faultlessly dressed.) 

George. Excuse my coming in on you this way, 
Mr. Wilton, but I'm really very much disturbed. 

Wilton. (Rising) Don't be disturbed on my ac- 
count. Have a chair. 

George. I can't, Mr. Wilton. I can't sit down. 
(Sits on ottoman c.) I'm too upset really. It's 
about Marguerite. I suppose she has told you our 
engagement is broken. 

Wilton. Why, no — I didn't know you were en- 
gaged. Allow me to congratulate you. 

George. But I said the engagement is broken, 
Mr. Wilton. 

Wilton. Allow me to Oh, so you did. 

(Sits.) 

George. Marguerite suits me exactly, if it weren't 
for a number of things that I should think you, as 
her father, would view with growing concern. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 17 

Wilton. Really? Perhaps I don't know them. 
I was saved any worry about her engagement to 
you by not being informed of it. 

George. I don't understand that. We've been 
engaged for months. It happened while we were 
at Hot Springs. 

W^iLTON. You might have dropped me a line, if 
you'd thought of it. 

George. I did. But Marguerite didn't like the 
letter, so she said she'd write herself. 

Wilton. Oh, well, perhaps she will when she 
gets round to it. 

George. To go back to what I was saying — per- 
haps you don't know — Marguerite plays cards from 
morning till night. Did you know thatf 

Wilton. I know she likes bridge, but I didn't 
know the hours were so confininsr as all that. 

George. When she's not playing cards, she*s 
dancing and seeing a side of life that I don't think 
improves a young girl, Mr. Wilton. 

Wilton. She can't see very much of it, accord- 
ing to the bridge schedule you've laid out for her. 

George. She plays cards for money — do you know 
that?^ 

Wilton. Yes, I know that. 

George. I may be old-fashioned, but I don't think 
winning money at cards is wholesome for a young 
girl. 

Wilton. I don't think her health has been seri- 
ously undermined by winning any, do you? 

George. Well, or losing it either, for that matter. 
You don't want your wife throwing money away in 
a perfectly useless pursuit, do you? 

Wilton. No. Maybe we could have her taught 
to play better, 

READY door-bell. 



i8 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

George. What kind of a wife and mother is she 
going to make, Mr, Wilton? 

Wilton. I haven't the faintest idea, really. What 
do you think? 

George. I wrote her a letter this morning — I sup- 
pose she has it by now. It just occurred to me that 
if you would have a talk with her 

Wilton. I should be delighted, if you can ar- 
range it. I rarely see her — my family is usually 
scattered when I come home — and as I leave the 
house before any of them are up, my chances for 
conversation are somewhat limited. 

George. I told her I was coming to-night for a 
final understanding. 

Wilton. Oh, is she going to be here? 

George. I don't know, but I am. 

Wilton. Good! Have you a dinner engage- 
ment? 

George. Yes. I always dine with my parents on 
Thursday nights, Mr. Wilton. I feel that I owe it 
to them to devote one night a week to them. 

Wilton. (Disappointed) Well, if I see Mar- 
guerite, I'll try and think of something to say about 
all these things. 

George. Thank you, Mr. Wilton. I'm sure you 
can think of the right thing. 

Wilton. Are you? 

DOOR-BELL, 

George. You have the reputation of being a man 
who never makes a mistake in talking business. 

Wilton. But this is not my office, you know. 

(Enter Connors, l.v.) 

Connors. Mr. Belden is calling, sir. 
Wilton. Oh, show him in. (Enter Belden l.u. 
Connors, after showing Belden in, exits up r.u.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 19 

Come in. How have you stood the long separation 
of thirty-five minutes? Do you know Mr. Struth- 
ers, Mr. Belden ? 

Belden. No. (Shakes hands.) I know Mr. 
Struthers* father very well. How is your father? 

George. Very well, indeed, except that he has a 
slight cold. 

Belden. Most remarkable man. 

Wilton. I don't see anything remarkable in that. 
Everybody seems to have one. 

Belden. Your father is an old man. 

George. Yes, but have you ever seen my grand- 
father ? 

Belden. No. 

Wilton. You ought to see him, Belden. He's 
even older than his father. If you can conceive 
of such a thing. 

George. I think I'll be going along, Mr. Wilton, 
but I'll be back perhaps later. I hope you can do 
something for me. 

Wilton. Yes, yes, I hope so. Good night. 
(Exit George l.u.J What is it, John? (Crosses c. 
Gets cigars.) 

Belden. I won't keep you, Henry. Just want 
you to sign the papers for Marshall & Whyte. I 
didn't realize that you were leaving the office. 

Wilton, ("r. of table) Oh, yes, I left five min- 
utes early to-night. Thought I'd see how it seemed 
to have a little time on my hands. Have a chair, 
John. Have a cigar. 

(Wilton signs papers r. of table with pen given 
by Belden, then returns papers and pen to 
Belden.) 

Belden. ("l. front of seat) I suppose you're 
going out to-night ? (Sits.) 



20 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. (By table c) I suppose so. 

Belden. Go out a good deal, don't you? 

Wilton. I've heard a rumor to that effect. So 
do you. (Sits on edge of table.) 

Belden. Yes, yes, I go. Don't care for it much, 
but feel I must. 

Wilton. Why? 

Belden. Well, don't you? 

Wilton. Not exactly "must." 

Belden. How's Mrs. Wilton? 

Wilton. Emmy? Always well, I'm glad to say. 
And Mrs. Belden? 

Belden. She's at Hot Springs. I felt that / 
needed the rest. 

Wilton. I see. 

Belden. Anything on your mind ? 

Wilton. Nothing to speak of. 

Belden. You don't seem quite like yourself this 
evening. 

Wilton. Don't I? 

Belden. Was there anything 

Wilton. Now we're talking about it, I'd like 
to This is hardly business you know. 

Belden. Well, what of that? 

Wilton. Well, we've had hardly anything but 
business between us, you know, all these years. 

Belden. Why, you can't mean that, Henry. Mrs. 
Belden and I have dined with you and you with us 
and we 

Wilton. Oh, I know — dinners and calls — but 
we've never said anything about the real things. 

Belden. Real things? 

Wilton. Yes; life and all that. 

Belden. Oh, life. Was there anything special 
about life, Henry? 

Wilton. Yes, I was wondering, Belden, if you — 
if you — ever have the feeling that your wife — and — 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 21 

family of course — that — they value you at all ex- 
cept 

Belden. Value you? 

Wilton. (Sits r. of table.) Now wait, wait. 
I'm going to get this thing right, now that I've 
started. It isn't easy to talk about. Do you ever 
have the feeling that they care for you only as the 
one who supplies everything? Just the money- 
making machine, and all that? 

Belden. Why, I — well, yes, I have thought of it, 
but I never let it trouble me. Do you? 

Wilton. Oh, well, we can't always help thinking, 
you know. 

Belden. Why, of course you can. Think of 
something else. 

Wilton. What else is there? 

Belden. Serious as all that, is it? 

Wilton. Well, it troubles me some. Foolish, I 
dare say. 

Belden. It certainly is, Henry. 

Wilton. You see, it's a little different with me. 
She's so young and I thought at the time that it 
might be a mistake for me to marry again. 

Belden. No more a mistake than for anyone to 
marry anybody. No, we have to take life as it 
comes, Henry. If they value us merely as pro- 
viders, the thing is to be good ones. 

Wilton. Yes, we can always do that. 

Belden. Yes, we certainly can always do that. 
No use brooding over these things, and I daresay 
lots of the time that we think that they're thinking 
all sorts of things, they're not thinking at all. 

Wilton. You think there's a chance of that? 

READY door-bell. 

Belden. I'm sure of it; so why worry? 

Wilton. Exactly. Why worry? 

Belden. Good-night, Henry. (Rising.) 



22 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. Good-night, John. (Rising.) 
(Exit Belden, l.u. Enter Connors r.u.) 

Wilton. I certainly would like to stay at home 
to-night, Connors, but not alone. I wonder how 
people arrange with their families to do it. Have 
you any idea? How was it with you — your father 
— and mother — did they 

Connors. Well sir, of course, for the poor, it's 
a very simple matter. They've no money to spend 
and they don't get to go very often, so they stay at 
home more or less together. 

Wilton. Hm — "they don't get to go very often." 
They don't know, I suppose, how fortunate they are. 

BELL. 

Connors. No, sir, I suppose not. 

Wilton. (Crossing to fireplace) "The poor don't 
get to go very often." 

(Exit Connors l.u. Returns immediately.) 

Connors. It's Mr. Rafaelo calling, sir. He says 
in case you decide not to dine out, he will take Mrs. 
Wilton. 

Wilton. Oh, Mr. Rafaelo. I want to see him. 
Show him in. 

Connors. Yes, sir. 

(Connors exits r.u., after showing Rafaelo in L.u.j 

Rafaelo. (c.) Ah, Mr. Weelton, good evening. 

Wilton, (r.) Good evening, Mr. Rafaelo. 

Rafaelo. It is since some time I have seen you. 
But nearly every day Mrs. Weelton in my studio 
say you are splendeed — busy — always busy making 
the great piles of monee. 

Wilton. Yes. How's the picture coming on? 

Rafaelo. Very well, I think, Mr. Weelton. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 23 

Wilton. Do you find that Mrs. Wilton has 
changed much since you began it? Let me see — 
how long ago was it? 

Rafaelo. It is — er — well — I think another month 
it will be completed. 

Wilton. Another month ? 

Rafaelo. You see, Mr. Weelton, of all the sub- 
ject I have put on the canvas, Mrs. Weelton is most 
difficult lady. She change so — so variable the face. 
One day so gay an' happy, come uno bambino, like 
a child, and then so sad — like the Madonna. 

Wilton. Oh ! That must be very trying for 
you. 

Rafaelo. You do not notice eet, perhaps. 

Wilton. Well, you see, Rafaelo, I'm a very busy 
man. I don't have time to sit and look at Mrs. 
Wilton steadily for two hours and a half a day, 
much as I should like to do so. 

Rafaelo. That is where I have the advantage. 
/ can look at Mrs. Weelton and make monee. 

Wilton. Yes, that's where you have the advan- 
tage. You can look at her. 

Rafaelo. I wish you could see the picture, Mr. 
Weelton, before it is finished. 

Wilton. I wish I could see it after it's finished. 

Rafaelo. Ah, well, I thought perhaps you might 
make a suggestion. 

Wilton. The only suggestion I can make is 
your signature. 

Rafaelo. Grazio. 

Wilton. I think Mrs. Wilton has been looking 
rather pale lately. It occurred to me that the air 
in your studio might account for it — the turpentine, 
you know. 

Rafaelo. Oh, but that is a nice, clean smell, Mr. 
Weelton. 

Wilton. So are chloroform and ether. 



24 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Rafaelo. Well, eet is coming Spring — I can 
open more the windows. And now to explain why 
I am here. Do you dine at Mrs. Longley's to- 
night? Do you take Mrs. Weelton? 

Wilton. If she goes, yes. 

Rafaelo. Oh, she goes. She goes. 

Wilton. She does. Very well — very well. 

Rafaelo. So if you — er — for any reason cannot 
go, I take her with a great pleasure. 

Wilton. (Pleasantly) I see. Well, perhaps 
some other time you can have that pleasure. 

Rafaelo. (Hesitating, disappointed) Then — I 
will see you later. (Goes up L.j 

READY door-hell 

Wilton. Yes — quite so. 

Rafaelo. (Hesitating, turns) You will see Mrs. 
Weelton, of course — and explain. 

Wilton. Explain ? 

Rafaelo. Yes — you will explain my absence. 

Wilton. Well, I'll explain my presence — ^per- 
haps that will do just as well. (Smiling.) 

Rafaelo. (A little confused, looking at Wilton j 
Then, for a little while, a rivederci. (Exits L.u.j 

Wilton. Yes, indeed. A river ditch or what 
ever it is. 

(Enter Connors down c.) 

Wilton. (To Connorsj Connors, if by any 
chance the family should dine at home to-night, 
there'd be some dinner, I suppose? 

Connors. Oh, dear, yes, sir. Lizzie has a fine 
dinner every night, just on the chance that some- 
body might be home. 

Wilton. Well, you tell Lizzie that there's just 
a chance to-night. One chance in a hundred. Wc 
must never be sure of anything. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 25 

Connors. Yes, sir. (Exits R.u.j 
Wilton. (Thoughtfully) "The poor don't get to 
go very often." BELL rings. 

(Wilton exits r.u. and goes up stairs. Connors 
crosses in hallway from r. to l., passing left 
door. Enter Connors and Clarence Rivers. 
Clarence has a paper parcel containing roses.) 

Clarence. Good evening, Connors. (Puts flow- 
ers on table c.) 

Connors. (A little surprised) Good evening, 
Mr. Rivers — er — who did you wish to see, sir? 

Clarence. (Easily) Oh, nohody in particular, 
I've come to dinner, Connors. You can take my 
coat, if you will. I'm a little early, so you needn't 
announce me. 

Connors. (Taking the coat) Yes, sir. Do they 
expect you, sir? 

Clarence. Why, I suppose so. Have you any 
reason to suppose that they don't, Connors? 

Connors. No, sir — only that Miss Marguerite 
is dining in her room, Mr. Eddie has left orders not 
to wake him until nine, and Mr. and Mrs. Wilton 
are dining out, sir. 

Clarence. Oh, well, in that case, I'll have my 
coat. 

Connors. (Helping him on with it) I'm very 
sorry, Mr. Rivers. 

Clarence. Oh, that's quite all right, Connors. 
They've forgotten all about it. 

Connors. The engagement was made some time 
ago, sir? 

Clarence. Oh, yes — day before yesterday. 

Connors. Well really, sir, it's too bad. Shall I 
tell Miss Marguerite that you called? 

Clarence. On the whole, I believe I wouldn't, 
Connors. 



26 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Connors. Perhaps you're ri^ht, sir. It mi^ht 
spoil her evening. 

Clarence. Oh, if it would, I'd insist on your 
telling her. But it wouldn't. No, Connors — she'd 
just say : "How fortunate it was only Clarence Riv- 
ers." 

Connors. Perhaps you're right, sir. 

Clarence. Of course I'm right. 

Connors. You're welcome to stay if you like, 
sir. There'll be dinner, you know, even if no one 
is here. 

Clarence. Thanks, Connors, but I'm afraid I'd 
be lonely. By Jove, I think someone else is coming, 
too. Miss Partington was asked at the same time 
I was. 

Connors. I don't think she'll be coming, sir. I 
overheard, quite accidentally, that she — that they — 
that the engagement was broken ofif this afternoon, 
sir. Her and Mr. Eddie, you know. 

Clarence. Oh, I don't think that would make 
any difiference about her coming to dinner, Connors. 

Connors. Don't you, sir? 

Clarence. No, I'll just drop around and tell her 
that they're all asleep and dining out and so forth. 

Connors. (Giving him his hat) It's too bad 
to put you to that trouble, sir. Maybe you will dine 
there. 

Clarence. Yes, that's a good idea. (Goes to 
table and gets flowers.) Thanks for the suggestion, 
Connors. Good night. (Exits h.v.) 

(Enter Wilton down stairs and in r. door.) 

Wilton, (r.c.) Connors, the chances of our 
staying at home are improving. What did Lizzie 
say? 

Connors, (c.) She didn't say anything, sir — 
she just looked. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 27 

Wilton. And are we to interpret that look as a 
favorable symptom? 

Connors. She was very much pleased, sir. 

Wilton. Well, that's good. Oh, Connors, ask 
Mrs. Wilton to come here for a moment. 

Connors. Yes, sir. (Exits u.r., gomg up stairs.) 

Wilton. (Going l. of fable) "The poor don't 
get to go, very often." (Brings his hand softly 
down on the table as though an idea has crystallised 
in his mind.) 

(Enter Emmie r.u. from upstairs. She wears a 
negligee and her hair is in curls on her shoul- 
ders.) 

Emmie. (Down c.) Goodness, Harry, what's the 
matter? I was just having my hair done. 

Wilton. (Looking at her) It looks so pretty 
that way. 

Emmie. Connors said you wanted to speak to 
me ; do you ? 

Wilton. Yes — yes, dear — I do. 

Emmie. Is anything the matter, Harry, that you 
couldn't come upstairs ? 

Wilton. I wanted to see you alone. 

Emmie. Well, hurry, then, because I mustn't 
keep Strogelberg. He has millions of people to do. 

Wilton. Who is Strogelberg? 

Emmie. He's the man who does my hair. 

Wilton. Tell him to go away. Wear your hair 
as it is to-night — it's more fitting. 

Emmie. More fitting? 

Wilton. Yes — that's what I said — more fitting. 
We're not going out. 

Emmie. Oh, but we are. We're going to dinner 
at the Longley's. And then to the Opera, and then 
to a reception at the Briscoe's for some cousin of 
theirs who's invented something or other, something 
that explodes. He's going to tell us about it. 



28 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. (Calmly) My dear child, we don't 
need to go out of our own house to-night, to hear 
about things that explode. 

Emmie. Why, what do you mean, Harry? 

Wilton. Vm ruined, Emmie — that's all. 

Emmie. Ruined! (He nods.) But how can you 
be ruined? You can't be really ruined. You don't 
mean that you're really ruined, Harry? 

Wilton. Don't keep saying it over like that — 
will you? 

Emmie. No — I won't — but ruined — I can't be- 
lieve it — it's so sudden. 

Wilton. Well, that's the way those things are. 

Emmie. Well, of course, if we're ruined — really 
ruined — we can't do anything. (Sits ottoman.) 

Wilton. No, we can't do anything. (Crossing 
to fireplace.) Well, we can have dinner. 

Emmie. Where? 

Wilton. Here. It's all ready and no extra ex- 
pense to eat it. 

Emmie. Ruined. . . . Are you going to tell 
anybody, Harry ? 

Wilton. I don't think it will be necessary. 

Emmie. Ruined ! It doesn't seem like us, Harry. 
Are you sure ? Mightn't there be some mistake ? 

Wilton. (At fireplace) Haven't you any confi- 
dence in me at all ? 

Emmie. Of course I have, Harry. You must 
know — you know everything about business. Yes, 
I believe you. But I wish I'd known it this morn- 
ing. I made so many engagements. And I went to 
so many shops. 

Wilton. Oh well, never mind. 

Emmie. (Rises) Oh, how I wish now I'd 
kept all the things I've seen about what people can 
live on. We've been a terribly expensive family 
the past year, Harry. My being at Palm Beach so 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 29 

long, and Marguerite at Hot Springs,and Eddie in 
Canada studying aviation. And Kathrine Longley 
says the cost of living alone is going up so. . . . 

Wilton. Well, we'll try living together for a 
while. 

Emmie. (Goes to him) Ruined! — Will it be in 
the papers, Harry? 

Wilton. Not yet a while. 

Emmie. I'm glad. It will be nice to have the 
first few days quietly together. (Suddenly) Harry ! 
Isn't it a good thing we bought the new car — for 
now we can sell it and get almost as much as we 
paid for it ! 

Wilton. I hadn't thought of that. What a pity 
I didn't buy a half a dozen of them. 

Emmie. Oh, well, we'll think of lots of things 
to do. (Encouragingly) You know, I think the 
important thing about being ruined, Harry, is not 
to get frightened. And somehow, I don't feel afraid 
a bit about being ruined — as long as I'm ruined with 
you. 

Wilton. (Pleased) Why, of course — there's no 
use getting up a lot of excitement about it. 

Emmie. (Agreeing) No, for then you can't do 
anything. It might even be better for us to go out 
to-night, Harry, as though nothing had happened. 

Wilton. No, no — I don't think we'd better do 
that. 

Emmie. No. I don't want to, either. I was just 
thinking of the looks of it. Oh, I must tell Strogel- 
berg to go. Now, isn't it fortunate — I've saved 
three dollars not having my hair done ! 

Wilton. Three dollars ! Well, we're getting on 
splendidly. 

Emmie. And I must telephone Katherine Long- 
ley. Shall I tell her, Harry? 



30 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. Why not say you'll explain later — or 
ril explain later. 

Emmie. Oh, yes — it would please Katherine so 
if you would, Harry. 

Wilton. Do you think so? 

READY telephone, 

Emmie. Oh, yes — I know it. She'd be so flat- 
tered to have you talking business to her, Harry. 
Anyone would. I know — I'll send word by Pietro 
that we're not coming and that you'll explain later. 
Pietro is coming for me, in case you wouldn't go. 

Wilton. If you mean Mr. Rafaelo, he came. 

Emmie. Oh, did he? Do you mind my calling 
him Pietro, Harry? 

Wilton. I don't know — I hadn't thought about 
it. Perhaps I do. 

Emmie. You wouldn't if you knew how well ac- 
quainted we are ! (Telephone hell.) It's really quite 
all right. You don't realize how much I've seen 
him. What did you say to him, Harry? 

('Connors enters and goes to telephone.) 

Wilton. We talked about the picture. 

Emmie. Oh — and will he explain to Katherine? 

Connors. (Down a hit) Mrs. Longley on the 
telephone. Madam. 

Wilton. Tell her we're unavoidably detained at 
home, Connors. (Sits R. at fireplace.) 

Connors. Yes, sir. (Goes to telephone.) Hello! 
Mrs. Longley? Mr. Wilton told me to say that 
they are unavoidably detained at home to dinner. 
Yes, Madam. I will ask. Madam, but I'm afraid 
it's no use. (To Wilton and EmmieJ She's 
greatly disturbed about the two chairs. 

Wilton, (r.) Chairs? 

Connors. The absence of two chairs, sir. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 31 

Wilton. Well, can't we send her over a couple 
of chairs? 

Emmie, (c.) Two vacant chairs at a dinner, 
Harry — it really is dreadful. 

Connors. (Remaining at phone) I was just 
thinking, Madam — Mr. Rivers dropped in here to 
dinner — he and Miss Partington in some way thought 
they were expected — if they would help Mrs. Long- 
ley out. I know they've no other engagement. 

Wilton. An excellent idea, I should say. 

Emmie. Do you really think it would do? I 
don't think Katherine has ever met Clarence Rivers. 

Wilton. Well, that's all the better. 

Emmie. But she knows the Partingtons. Shall 
I tell her? (Starts to phone.) 

Wilton. Why not let Connors do it ? He's there. 

Emmie. All right — but be sure and say how 
amusing Mr. Rivers is, Connors. (Crosses down 

L.) 

Connors. (At the phone) Mrs. Longley? Mrs. 
Wilton suggested two friends to occupy the chairs — • 
yes, Madam — Mr. Rivers, a very amusing gentle- 
man, who is dining out to-night, and Miss Parting- 
ton. The phone is 8000 River. (To EmmieJ She 
doesn't seem pleased. 

Emmie. Well, we've done the best we can. 

(Enter Marguerite r.u. in negligee.) 

Marguerite. (Going to Wiltonj Father, this 
won't be enough. (Holding out bill) I'm going 
to play bridge for charity to-night at the Wolcott's. 

Emmie. (Snatching at the bill) Give it to me. 
Got any more? 

Marguerite. (Surprised, letting her have it) 
Why, Sweetie — what's the matter? 

Emmie. The matter is, that your father is ruined. 



32 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Don't make a fuss about it, for weVe decided not to. 
Don't say anything, Harry, until I come back. (Exits, 
running upstairs R.u.J 

Marguerite. Father, it's not true, is it? (Cross- 
ing to seat and looking into his face.) Oh, you poor 
darling — and you kept it from us all the time. 

Wilton. No, no — it was all quite sudden. 

Marguerite. Oh, no, dear — you must have 
known it for weeks. Oh, how beautifully you be- 
have about it ! 

Wilton. So do you. 

Marguerite. What did Sweetie say when you 
told her? 

Wilton. She was splendid, really. Very en- 
couraging. 

Marguerite. It's surprising, isn't it? 

Wilton. Is it? 

Marguerite. Yes, because she's not related to 
you like Eddie and me. 

Wilton. Not in the same way, of course. Do 
you think Eddie will be all right about it? 

Marguerite. Of course — why shouldn't he be? 
When you've worked so and done everything for us 
and given us everything! 

Wilton. Why, I didn't think you'd noticed that. 

Marguerite. Let Eddie go to work — it will do 
him good. 

Wilton. It seems rather a large order for Eddie 
— to take care of us all — doesn't it? 

Marguerite. Well, I'm perfectly willing to help 
him, if he'll do something that I understand. We 
might give riding lessons. 

Wilton. Yes. If you can find any pupils able 

to keep up with you By the way, Peggy 

(Catching himself) Oh, 3^ou don't like to be called 
Peggy, do you? 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 33 

Marguerite. Oh, yes, if we're ruined, darling, 
you can call me anything. 

Wilton. I was going to say, George Struthers 
came 

Marguerite. Did he ? 

Wilton. I didn't know about your engagement, 
did I? 

Marguerite. Didn't you? No, I suppose you 
didn't. Well, we were. 

Wilton. So he said. 

Marguerite. It happened at Hot Springs. It was 
awfully stupid there and George seemed to think it 
would be a good idea. 

Wilton. He said something about writing me a 
letter. 

Marguerite. Yes — he wrote you a terribly long 
letter. I was afraid it would make you take a dis- 
like to him. Father, so I persuaded him not to 
send it. 

Wilton. Oh, you didn't want me to take a dis- 
like to him? 

Marguerite. Not then. 

Wilton. And now? 

Marguerite. Well, of course there's more to do 
in town. Did George say anything about me ? 

Wilton. He said he was coming to-night, but I 
didn't know whether you were going out or not. 
Are you? 

Marguerite. Of course I won't go out. I'll 
have dinner with you and Sweetie. You must eat, 
you know, darling. You will, won't you? 

(Eddie enters r.u. in bathrobe, followed by Emmie, 
who has told him the news, coming hurriedly 
down the stairway.) 

Eddie. (Going to Wilton j What's this I hear, 
Dad? 



34 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Emmie. I told him, Harry. 

Eddie. (His arm round WiltonJ Now, listen — 
don't you worry — I'll go right to work to-morrow. 
Old Partington's crazy to have me in his office. 

Wilton. (Smiling) He certainly is. 

Eddie. Maybe you don't think I'm cut out for 
business. But you watch me, Dad — and while I'm 

about it (Pulls bill out of his pocket that was 

given him for the tickets. Emmie seises it.) 

Emmie. Give it to m.e. We ought to have an old 
shoe or something, to put it in. Isn't that what 
people do? That makes a hundred, Harry. 

Wilton. One hundred and three — don't forget 
old Strogelberg. 

Eddie. I can take care of all of you — if not in 
the style you're accustomed to, some other kind. 
And I'll work up — Father knows it can be done. 
There's nothing small about you, Dad. You must 
have failed for at least fifty million dollars. 

Emmie. Think of starting with nothing at all and 
failing for fifty million dollars ! It's simply mag- 
nificent ! 

Wilton. Really, you embarrass me. Do you 
think, perhaps, I'm the greatest failure in the world ? 

Eddie. Why, of course, Dad. Nothing to it. 

Marguerite. Father, you do everything better 
than anyone else. 

Wilton. Why, this is delightful. I*d no idea 
you'd all appreciate it like this. This is really one 
of the most delightful — I mean under the circum- 
stances. 

Emmie. I suppose we'll go and live in the coun- 
try, Harry. I should think an abandoned farm would 
be just the very thing for us. 

Marguerite. Yes — you can get them for noth- 
ing, Father, up in Connecticut. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 35 

Emmie. Maybe you wouldn't like an abandoned 
farm, Harry? 

Wilton. Well, I would like it if it were suffi- 
ciently abandoned — it might be a little hard for 
Eddie to commute from an abandoned farm. 

Eddie. Oh, well, I can stay at the Turkish bath — 
except Sundays. There'll be trains I can get to the 
farm Sunday morning and come back Sunday night. 

Emmie. We can raise all kinds of things, Harry, 
and now that eggs have gone up so, why not keep 
chickens ? 

Wilton. Yes, if we could persuade them to stay. 
I thought perhaps their ideas had gone up with the 
eggs and that they might not be satisfied with any- 
thing less than an apartment in town. 

Marguerite. Li lots of ways it will be a sort of 
relief. Just think, Eddie — we won't have to take 
part in those dances for charity — the Foundlings 
Home things. 

Eddie. That's right. 

Wilton. I never could understand dancing while 
you're thinking of those poor little foundlings ? 

Emmie. You don't think of them, Harry. Don't 
you see? You don't have to think of them, because 
you've paid five dollars. 

Wilton. Oh, I see — very reasonable, too. To 
be able to stop thinking for five dollars. 

Emmie. I think we should dress, Marguerite. 
We must think of the servants. 

(Emmie and Marguerite exit and go upstairs.) 

Eddie. I'm going to phone Julie — if I've re- 
formed, she ought to know it. (Goes to phone. At 
phone) Give me 8000 River. Is Miss Partington 
in? (To Wilton j Julie and I are engaged, you 
know. Father. 



36 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

READY curtain. 

Wilton. No — really? 

Eddie. That is, we were — maybe we're not — I 
don't know. 

Wilton. Let me know when you find out. 

Eddie. Hello — hello, Julie. All right. How are 
you? Just wanted to tell you that I've cut out 
everything you don't like. Yes — I've cut her out, 
too. (Wilton goes up and rings bell r. of r.u. 
arch.) Now listen, Julie — I know — I know all that 
— but will you listen. Just listen. (Disgusted.) 
All right, I'm listening. 

(Enter Connors r.u.^ 

Wilton. I just wanted to tell you that we'll all 
be here for dinner, Connors. 

Eddie. (In phone) But I can explain that. 

Connors. Yes, sir. Very good, sir. Lizzie will 
be pleased. She was just saying what fine broilers 
came in from the country. 

Eddie. (In phone) Well, of course, if you won't 
let me. 

Wilton. Yes. It — er — it really looks as though 
I'm going to have a quiet evening at home, Con- 
nors. 

Connors. (Smiling) Yes, sir. 

(Exit Wilton and Connors r.u.} 

Eddie. (In phone) \Nt\\, how do you know 
something hasn't happened — I guess you'll think so 
when you hear what it is. Tve got the whole fam- 
ily to take care of — and I'm glad to do it, but I 
would like a little appreciation. 

(Connors enters with dinner gong r.u., ivhich he 
heats cheerfully.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 37 

Eddie. (In phone) I say Tve got the whole fam- 
ily to take care of. Of course I can. (Connors, 
shocked, stops.) I do mean it — my father is ruined. 
Good-bye. (To Connorsj That's not dinner, Con- 
nors? 

Connors. The dressing bell, sir. Dinner in half 
an hour. 

(Eddie dashes past him up the stairs. Connors, 
beats dinner gong three sad slow strokes.) 

CURTAIN 



ACT I 

Scene 2 : The same. Later in the evening. 

(On rise enter Connors r.u. He has letters in his 
hand which he lays on a silver tray on fable c. 
Enter Albertine r.u. j 

Albertine. (Softly) Connors — Meestaire Con- 
nors. 

Connors, (l. of table) Oh, Albertine? 

Albertine. ^r. of t., coming down) Connors, 
I 'ope we get our money. 

Connors. What do you mean, "get our money"? 

Albertine. 'Aven't you 'eard? Then I'll tell 
you — Meestaire Weelton is rueened ! 

Connors. Come, Albertine — run upstairs, do. 
Before anyone hears you. 

Albertine. I heard them say eet — it is true. 
An' that is w'y they stay for dinner. Meestaire 
Strogelberg he is told "do not come again." Madame 
weel fix her own hair ! Eet is true ! Rueened ! 

Connors. I can't be talking to you like this 

Albertine. Madame tell Meestaire Eddie — 
"Your father is rueened." Eet is true ! 

Connors. You should never know things until 
you're told, Albertine. 

Albertine. I have known eet in some place be- 
fore. They live so extravagant. The women think 
"we are safe," but all the time she sit on a volcano. 

38 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 39 

Connors. (Nervously) Come, come — you mustn't, 
really. 

READY door-hell. 

Albertine. I 'ope I get my money — I am going. 
The wise rat, she leave the sinking ship before he 
go down. (Goes up to R.u.j 

Connors. Well — I'm not a wise rat, my girl, I'm 
glad to say. 

Albertine. Well, I am. (Exits r.u.J 

(Marguerite enters and watches Albertine exit.) 

Marguerite. I suppose Albertine has told you, 
Connors. I knew she was listening upstairs. I sup- 
pose she's going. Well, no one cares if she does. 

Connors. Oh, Miss — is it true? About your 
father? 

Marguerite. Yes, Connors, it is. But you 
mustn't worry him, will you ? 

Connors. (Disturbed) I worry him? Oh, no. 
Miss. 

Marguerite. Father thinks so much of you, Con- 
nors. I thought perhaps he might have told you. 

Connors. No, Miss, he didn't. 

Marguerite. We didn't know until to-night. 

(Door-hell rings. Marguerite crosses l. Con- 
nors exits L.U.J 

George. (In hallway) Is Miss Marguerite at 
home? 

Connors. (In hallway) I'll see, sir. 

Marguerite. Come in, George. 

George. (Enters l.u. Connors exits l.) I just 
dropped in for a moment. Marguerite. Aren't you 
going out? (Leaves hat and plans on console table.) 

Marguerite. No — I'm not. 



40 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

George. (Down) I thought you were going to 
the Wolcott's to play bridge. 

Marguerite. (Crosses and sits sofa l.c. Sweet- 
ly) Did you? 

George. (Down to l. of table) Marguerite — 
was it because of what I said that you decided not 
to go? 

Marguerite. What did you say? 

George. I said I didn't Hke your playing cards 
for money. 

Marguerite. Did you say it to mef 

George. No, I said it to Mr. Wilton. 

Marguerite. Hoping he'd tell me? 

George. Yes. 

Marguerite. Well, he didn't. He doesn't talk 
about people behind their backs. 

George. Doesn't he? Well, why don't you try 
and be like him? 

Marguerite. What do you mean? 

George. (Bitterly) "Let him dream on" — that's 
what I mean. 

Marguerite. (Innocently) Let who dream on? 

George. Me, I suppose you meant. Do you deny 
that you said it? 

Marguerite. No, of course not. That would be 
silly — one might say anything and forget it. 

George. It came to me pretty straight. Some one 
told you that I had said we were to be married early 
in the fall. And your comment was, "Let him 
dream on." That's a nice thing to hear. 

Marguerite. Well, I don't really see anything 
so terrible in that, George. It doesn't mean any- 
thing — and if it does it means something rather nice. 
Most people would be glad to dream on after they're 
married, instead of waking up. 

George. You didn't say anything about "after 
we were married." 




"A Successful Calamity" 



See page 42 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 41 

Marguerite. Of course it was Clarence Rivers 
told you. 

George. But you did say it. And now the ques- 
tion is — did you mean it? 

Marguerite. Not if you don't like it, George, of 
course not. 

George. Do you take the slightest interest in the 
house ? If not I'll just return these plans to Hoakum 
and Birdsall. (Goes up.) 

Marguerite. (Affecting interest) Oh, have you 
the plans with you? Well, you know I did see them 
once, George. 

George. (Gets plans from console table) Only 
the ground floor. 

Marguerite. Oh, is there more of it? 

George. Why, of course — did you think I'd build 
a house with no upstairs to it? 

Marguerite. Why, I thought the upstairs and 
everything was downstairs. It seemed large enough 
without anything more. 

George. Well, you want a large house, don't you ? 
You've got to have servants and you've got to have 
your friends. And your relatives come to visit you, 
don't they ? I know mine do. 

Marguerite. Oh, do they? 

George. (Who has opened package on table c.) 
Now what I particularly wanted you to see is the 
arrangement of the rooms on the second floor south. 

(Enter Eddie r.u.j 

Eddie. Hello, George. Glad to see you. 

George. Hello, — don't touch those papers there, 
Eddie, or you'll get me all mixed up. 

Eddie. What is it? Have you gone into the 
indigo business? 

George. It's plans for the house. 



42 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Eddie. Oh, I see. 

George. (To Marguerite, who crosses to tabh) 
Here is your room. Now, the question is, whether 
you would rather have this sleeping porch on the 
other side of the dressing room — then you have to 
go through here to get to it. 

Marguerite. Across a hall? 

George. (Nervously) Yes. 

Marguerite. What's this? 

George. A closet. 

Marguerite. Oh, then I can't go through there. 

Eddie. Not unless you bore. 

Marguerite. Why not have the porch here — 
just outside my windows? 

George. You want it on the west side or it will 
be hot. 

Marguerite. Oh, well, I don't know, George. 
There doesn't seem to be any place to have it where 
I can get to it. 

Eddie. Why not go downstairs and enter from 
outside on a ladder? 

George. You're very funny, Eddie, but this is 
an important matter. If you'd put your mind on it, 
you might be some help. 

Eddie. My what ? All right, I will. 

Marguerite. (Pointing to plan) What's all 
this? 

George. That's my room. 

Eddie. (Looking) I suppose your porch works 
all right, George? 

George. Well, yes, because my rooms face north. 
They'll be very cold in winter. 

Eddie. When you're not there. 

Marguerite. What's this ? 

George. That's the nursery. 

Marguerite. But it's so huge, George. And 
look at the stairs ! 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 43 

George. Well, you have to have stairs to get to 
the children, don't you? 

Marguerite. But such quantities of them! 

Eddie. Maybe you'll have quantities of children. 
And you have to have stairs to get away from them, 
too, you know. 

Marguerite. But stairs are dangerous, George — 

George. Don't be absurd — they'll have gates at 
the top. 

Marguerite. But children open those gates, 
George. I know I did and I fell down. Look — 
(Pointing to the hack of her neck.) I have the scar 
yet. 

Eddie. Well, why not have Yale locks put on the 
gates and only allow keys to the responsible children. 

George. Isn't there some place where we can go 
and be quiet? 

Marguerite. Yes — right in the music-room. 
(They start off.) 

Eddie. Have you told George? 

George. Told me what? 

Eddie. Nothing — I thought maybe Marguerite 
had told you. 

George. Well — what is it? Now I insist on 
being told. 

Eddie. Oh well, that's up to Marguerite. 

Marguerite. Why, it isn't. If you want to tell, 
tell. 

Eddie. I think it's a good thing to tell George — 
it's just that father's in some sort of a business 
crash. 

George. (Shocked) What! Wilton and Bel- 
den? 

Eddie. I don't know anything about it, really 

George. Why, that doesn't seem possible — I 
haven't heard a rumor of it. 

Marguerite. Neither had we. 



44 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

George. (Suspiciously to Marguerite) That's 
the reason you're home to-night? 

Marguerite. What do you mean ? 

George. If your father's in trouble — you natural- 
ly — turn to me. 

Marguerite. (Simply) Yes. 

George. (Gloomily) Oh, I see. This is terrible. 

READY door-bell. 

Marguerite. (With spirit) You weren't mar- 
rying me for my money, were you, George? 

George. No. The question is — are you marry- 
ing me for mine ? 

Marguerite. (Hesitating) Why, George Stru- 
thers 

George. Well, upon my word it looks like it. 
My God ! (With real feeling) The thing I always 
dreaded. I did think as you had plenty of your own 
I was safe. 

Marguerite. Well, you don't have to marry me 
if you don't want to, George. 

George. I do want to — but the question is — Do 
you love me? Look at me. 

Eddie. Don't ask her to look at you, George, 
with that expression on your face. 

DOOR-BELL. 

Marguerite. I haven't the least idea, George, 
whether I do or not. 

Eddie. Believe me, that's saying a good deal. 

(Connors appears at l. door.) 

Connors. Miss Partington is here. 

Marguerite. It's Julie (George crosses l.) 

Eddie. Oh, Julie — show her in, Connors. 

(Enter Julie. She greets each in turn as they 
speak to her.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 45 

Marguerite. Good evening, dear. 

Julie. You forgot that I was coming to dinner, 
didn't you ? 

Marguerite. Why, were you? But you're late, 
dear, we've had dinner. 

Julie. So have L Clarence said you'd forgotten 
we were coming. He had dinner with us. 

Marguerite. Oh, was he coming too? Well, 
you see it's been such an awful evening. 

George. I'll go along, I guess — 

Marguerite. (To GeorgeJ We can go into 
the music room if you like. 

(George gathers up plans from table L. and starts 
with Marguerite toward L.u.j 

Julie. What's that, George ? Are you writing a 
story? 

George. (At table) These are plans for a house 
that will probably never be built. 

Julie. Really? Aren't they any good? 

George. Good night. 

(Exit George and Marguerite l.u. They cross 
hall and enter music room in flat.) 

Eddie. You're a brick, Julie. Why didn't you 
say you were coming? 

Julie. Well, father and Uncle Jerry Partington 
were right near the telephone. I couldn't say any- 
thing. You look awfully ill, Eddie. 

Eddie. Yes — it's this worry over father. 

Julie. (Sitting 07i sofa) Is that it? 

Eddie. Of course. I should think a man would 
have a pretty good excuse for looking seedy — with 
his father ruined. 

Julie. Yes — it is a good excuse. 



46 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Eddie. I thought maybe I'd get a little sympa- 
thy— 

Julie. Fm awfully sorry for your father — 

Eddie. Thanks. 

Julie. But I really think, Eddie, that if it makes 
you — pull up and — and go to work — it will be a good 
thing for you. 

Eddie. Well, believe me — (Sits by her) — if I 
knew what to do, Fd be at work to-morrow morn- 
ing. If your uncle meant what you said he said — 
I'll be in his office at nine o'clock. 

Julie. Really, Eddie? 

Eddie. You bet. What was it he said? 

Julie. Let me see. Well — he said he was sorry 
to have me — Well, I guess Fd better not tell you, 
Eddie. 

READY cra^h. 

Eddie. Go ahead. 

Julie. He said it was a pity I had picked out 
such a lightweight — I think that was the word. 

(George and Marguerite come out of music room 

and exit L.) 

Eddie. Might be worse. 

Julie. And then he said, then he said — he'd just 
like to have you in his office for a week— but that 
was a good deal for uncle to say. 

Eddie. Yes — it depends a little on what he meant. 
But still— 

Julie. Oh, well — Uncle Jerry really means what 
he says, I think. Fd go and see him, Eddie. 

Eddie. If I do — (Crash. A door slams off 
stage. Eddie and Julie rise. Enter Marguerite.^ 
What was that, an explosion? 

Marguerite. No — George going out. Our en- 
gagement is broken — how's yours ? 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 47 

Julie. I'm not going to be engaged to anybody 
this spring. I've been reading a book that says 
people are really more emotional in the spring, and 
when I look back Fve always been engaged in the 
spring — so Fm going to wait this year till the fall, 
anyway. 

Eddie. Fine — I'll call about the first of Novem- 
ber — arrive with the first frost. 

Julie. I'll tell you what I came for. Clarence 
wants us all to go and see some rhythmic dancing — • 
Madame Demidorf — she is perfectly wonderful, and 
it does something to your soul, Clarence says. 

Eddie. How does he know? 

Marguerite. We couldn't go anywhere to-night, 
Julie — we couldn't leave father. 

Julie. Oh — couldn't you? 

(Enter Clarence l.u.'^ 

Clarence. My dear children, I want you to come 
and see the most remarkable creature — Andrea 
Polski Demidorf — she's a Russian, very high class 
— related to a samovar or something. 

Eddie. I am sick of Russian dancing. 

Clarence. Of course, but this is different from 
anything you have ever seen. You don't know it, 
but dancing affects your soul. 

Eddie. It depends on who you are dancing 
with, I should think. 

Clarence. Well, here's the vital part of her 
theory. You know you have an aura. 

Eddie. Where ? 

Clarence. If you're capable of any spiritual 
radiations you have an aura round your head. 

Eddie. I'd rather have a wet towel around mine 
to-night. 

Clarence. Her dancing will give you one if you 



48 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

haven't got one. Well, how about it — will you go? 

Marguerite. We can't, Clarence. We're in great 
trouble. 

Clarence. Oh, yes — I know — I didn't want to 
speak of it unless you did — I'm awfully sorry about 
your father, old chap. (Goes to Eddie. J 

Eddie. (To Julie j Oh — did you tell him? 

Julie. Yes — I didn't think it would matter just 
telling Clarence. 

Clarence. It doesn't matter, of course — but if 
there's anything I can do — probably there isn't — 
maybe I'd better ask him. What do you think? 
Where is he? 

Eddie. He's playing cribbage, I think, with Mrs. 
Wilton. 

Clarence. Oh — that's fine, isn't it ? I say — what 
a man he is. I won't disturb them — maybe to-mor- 
row in his office. Ruined. Cribbage. I must re- 
member that. 

Julie. (Crossing to R.j How does your father 
look, Eddie? 

Eddie. He looks just the same. 

Julie. Couldn't I just take a peek at him through 
the door? 

Eddie. Well, he is not on exhibition, you know — 
Still, come along. 

(Exit Julie and Eddie r.u. j 

Marguerite. I want to speak to you about some- 
thing, Clarence. 

Clarence. May I sit down? It doesn't take me 
long to get up. 

Marguerite. I'm not joking now, Clarence. 

Clarence. (Who has been about to sit down on 
sofa) Oh — you'd rather I wouldn't? 

Marguerite. Sit down, of course — (He sits.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 49 

Having made me a lot of trouble, Clarence, I think 
you ought to do something about it. 

Clarence. Why, certainly. What do you want 
me to do ? 

Marguerite. George came to-night — Of course 
I've always felt that I could say anything I like to 
you, Clarence. 

Clarence. I've noticed that. 

Marguerite. You repeated a silly speech I made 
to you, and George has been here and made an awful 
scene about it. 

Clarence. Has he really? 

Marguerite. Yes — you say things, Clarence, but 
you never think of the consequences. 

Clarence. Of course I do — I'm always thinking 
of them. 

Marguerite. Why, Clarence Rivers! You in- 
tended to have George break off our engagement ? 

Clarence. I hoped he would, of course — but I 
hardly thought there was much chance, unless I 
could follow it up in some way. Has he really done 
that ?— Isn't that splendid ? 

Marguerite. George thinks now that on account 
of father, I want to marry him for his money — and 
perhaps I do. 

Clarence. Good Lord! If you're going to do 
that, why not marry me? I've got more than he 
has. Think it over. 

Marguerite. Clarence — how can you. Would you 
be willing to marry anyone who married you for 
your money? 

Clarence. Not anyone. But you, yes — for any 
reason whatever. Of course I wouldn't want you to 
start divorce proceedings at once — I'd like to have 
a year or two out of it. Think it over. I'll phone 
in the morning. ... I think it's a splendid idea — 
Tve thought so for some time. 



50 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

(Enter Julie r.uJ 

Julie. Come, Clarence. (Clarence up L.j 
Good-bye, dear. (Up to door.) I'm sure every- 
thing will be all right. Aren't you, Clarence? 

Clarence. I'm not sure — but I have hopes. 

(Exit Julie and Clarence l.u. Enter Wilton 

R.U.j 

Marguerite. (Crossing c.) Father, what do you 
think of Clarence Rivers? 

Wilton. Why, I don't think of him. Is it 
necessary to incorporate him in my reflections? 

Marguerite. I wish you would. 

Wilton. Well, that's reason enough. But put it 
off until to-morrow, will you? I'd like to just think 
of my family to-night. 

Marguerite. Why, of course, dear, and we want 
to just think of you; but people keep coming in. 

Wilton. Yes, people keep coming in. I've no- 
ticed that — but they're beginning to go out too. I 
think the tide has turned. 

(Exit Marguerite r.u. Enter Connors l.u. J 

Connors. Mr. Wilton, excuse me, sir 

Wilton, (c.) Oh, Connors, is that you? 

Connors, (l.c.) Yes, sir. I couldn't help over- 
hearing what Albertine said to Lizzie. You know 
Albertine is a great one to listen. 

Wilton. Yes, is she? 

Connors. I was afraid something had happened, 
sir, when the family all stayed home for dinner. 

Wilton. Yes, that did look pretty bad, didn't it? 

Connors. If you'll pardon me for saying so, sir 
— I know all. 

Wilton. Oh — you know all, do you, Connors ? 

Connors. Yes, sir. And I want to say, sir, that 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 51 

if I can help in any way — besides staying with you, 
sir — of course I shall do that — and I can valet you, 
sir — your clothes will be kept as though nothing had 
happened. 

Wilton. That's very nice of you, Connors, and 
be sure to see that my old brown smoking jacket is 
kept. 

Connors. Yes, sir — yes, indeed. But — er — I 
have a little money in the bank, sir — (Taking out 
bank-book.) Here it is. It might not be any use 
to you at all, sir, but I would be so glad if it 
would. . . . 

Wilton. Why, Connors — I always knew what a 
dear, faithful fellow you were — but really, this is 
too much. (He takes the bank-book.) 

Connors. I'm afraid it's too little, sir. I wish 
it was more. 

Wilton. (Opening bank-book) Three thousand 
dollars — why, that's very good, Connors. You must 
have been very careful to have saved so much. 

Connors. (Pleased) Well, you see, sir — I've no 
one really dependent on me now, sir. My sister's 
husband has died and she doesn't need any more 
help. And my father and mother are gone, sir, so 
I've really no one to look out for. 

Wilton. No one but me. 

READY door-bell. 

Connors. That's right, sir. I've no one but you. 

Wilton. Well, Connors — I really don't know 
what to say to you — but I wouldn't have missed this 
for anything. 

Connors. The check is inside. I just made it 
out to you, sir — so there'd be no trouble. 

Wilton. Well, Connors — I'll just put this in my 
pocket — and then we'll see how things are. (Puts 
bank-book in Jus pocket, looking at Connors.) 

Connors. That's what I hoped, sir. 



52 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. Perhaps you'd better go now. I'm 
really afraid you'll make me cry if you go on like 
this. 

Connors. That mightn't be a bad idea, sir, let 
yourself down a bit, sir — if you can. I'm sure we'll 
weather this storm, Mr. Wilton — and many others 
like it. 

DOOR-BELL. 

Wilton. Yes — yes. Thank you, Connors. 

(Connors exits l.u. and returns with a box.) 

Connors, (c.) A box addressed to you, sir, from 
Vantines. 

Wilton. (Crossing to Connors c.) I haven't 
ordered anything. Let's see what it is. (They open 
the box, disclosing a handsome long dressing gown.) 
Isn't that a beauty, Connors? It must be for me — 
don't you think so? 

Connors. Why, yes, sir. It can't be for any one 
else. 

Wilton. No, not as long as this. I think I'll put 
it on — I can take it off again, you know, if we de- 
cide that — it isn't for me. 

Connors. Yes, sir. (Helping Wilton on with 
dressing-gown.) But after all, one must keep up. 
appearances, sir, mustn't they? 

Wilton. Yes, indeed. 

Connors. And when the shoe pinches, one must 
step out braver than ever. Oh, Mr. Wilton, sir, it's 
very becoming. 

Wilton. Is it really? 

Connors. Oh, yes, sir — it brings you out, Mr. 
Wilton. 

Wilton. Does it — where does it bring me out, 
Connors ? 

Connors. Your face, sir. The lines are very 
good. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 53 

Wilton. The lines of my face? 

Connors. No — the lines of the garment, sir. 

Wilton. Oh. 

(Exit Connors with box l.u. Enter Emmie in a 
simple evening gown r.v.) 

Emmie. (Delighted) Harry — it came and you've 
got it on. 

Wilton. Why, yes — how nice it is, too. 

Emmie. It was going to be a present from me. 

Wilton. Oh! From you? 

Emmie. Yes, but I don't suppose you can afford 
it now. 

Wilton. Well — I can wear it this evening, any- 
way, can't I? 

Emmie. Keep it, Harry — what difference does it 
make — it's charged and we can't pay the bill anyway. 
Let's sit down, Harry. (They go to fireplace and 
Wilton sits in chair, Emmie near him.) It's nice 
to be here. I do get tired sometimes, Harry. 

Wilton. I should think you would get tired. 

Emmie. But I know that I ought to go about, for 
your sake. 

Wilton. Really. How do you mean, dear? 

Emmie. Why, a man of your wealth and position, 
Harry. Of course I knew when I married you how 
it would be. I can't entertain like Katherine Long- 
ley — or Mrs. Beverly Weems — because I haven't it 
in me. 

Wilton. Haven't what in you? 

Emmie. Well — it's really a gift, you know. Their 
houses are more like salons. 

Wilton. Is that what's the matter with them? 

Emmie. All / can do is to dress smartly and be 
seen everywhere. 

Wilton. Everywhere? No wonder we're ex- 
hausted. 



54 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Emmie. Of course everyone comes to our house, 
Harry. But that's on your account 

Wilton. Does Rafaelo come on my account? 

Emmie. No, not Rafaelo, but everyone else. 
Katherine Longley says Fm not the sort of woman 
to get people together. Of course she's wonderful 
about that. 

Wilton. Wonderful about getting them apart, 
too, perhaps. 

Emmie. She says I never will be either, that I 
cannot make myself into anything different from 
what I am. 

Wilton. Good ! Fm glad to hear that. But to 
what do we owe all this singular interest on Kath- 
erine Longley's part? 

Emmie. Well, your friends, you know, always 
tell you things. 

Wilton. Well, but I didn't realize that she was 
as friendly as all that. 

Emmie. Oh, yes. We saw so much of each other 
at Palm Beach. She used my balcony, you see, be- 
cause her rooms hadn't any — it was an awful nui- 
sance, but we got very well acquainted. She en- 
tertained her friends there and they were very clever 
and talked so loud that sometimes we were really 
driven out and would go and sit somewhere else. 

Wilton. We? 

Emmie. Yes, Rafaelo and L We spent nearly 
all our evenings together. 

Wilton. I didn't know he was down there. 

Emmie. Oh, yes — he went down because he 
wanted to paint Katherine's picture. That's the way 
artists get orders, you know, Harry. They hang 
around people until some one asks them to paint 
their wife or dog or something. It's pathetic, isn't it ? 

Wilton. And did he paint Katherine's picture? 

Emmie. No — he painted mine as it turned out. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 55 

Wilton. Oh — I see. 

Emmie. Katherine was terribly obstinate about 
it — and it was so expensive for poor Rafaelo that 
I said, don't bother her any more — paint me. 

Wilton. You didn't mind being bothered. 

Emmie. No — you see, Rafaelo and I are very 
much alike, Harry. He isn't deep, you know, and 
he likes to look at things — I mean the stars and the 
sea and simple things hke that, without saying any- 
thing, just as I do. He's not very clever. Of 
course Katherine's friends are — and we were awfully 
lonely together when we were with them — so we 
would go off by ourselves. 

Wilton. He's a nice fellow, isn't he? I mean 
respectful and all that. 

Emmie. Well, no, Harry. You can't expect that 
of the Latin races, you know. In a way he is — but 
not as you would be. But they have more feeling 
than we have, you know — so they would have to 
have lots more self-control than we do, to act like us. 

Wilton. But he never did anything that you 
objected to? 

Emmie. He would always stop when I told him 
that I didn't like it. 

Wilton. Well — I had no idea of all this, really. 

Emmie. Oh, Harry — if only when we could, you 
had gone down there with me. 

Wilton. Really, would you have liked that? 

READY door-bell. 

Emmie. Oh, yes — I'd have been so flattered that 
you'd take time away from business and important 
things — to go and just be with me. 

Wilton. Good heavens, why didn't you say so? 

Emmie. Though you think I don't, Harry, I do 
notice things. I know that if I were more intelli- 
gent you would like to talk to me better — and I 
don't blame you. I'm just nothing at all compared 



56 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

with you — I did try to be different, but I don't think 
you noticed it. 

Wilton. Did you? 

Emmie. I read about things I thought you would 
be interested in and told you about them — but you 
only went to sleep. There was one thing I remem- 
ber, about why car wheels squeak going around 
curves — I thought you being a railroad man would 
like to hear it — but you went to sleep. 

Wilton. Why, you dear child! 

Emmie. I knew you were disappointed in me. 

Wilton. Disappointed in you? 

DOOR-BELL rings. 

Emmie. Katherine Longley told me how it would 
be, but she was wrong about one thing, Harry. She 
said I could never hold you for a year, and we've 
been married two. 

Wilton. Hold me? Why, my dear, don't you 
know the question is — can I hold you? 

(Enter Connors l.u.J 

Connors. Mr. Rafaelo is calling. 

Emmie. (Rising and crossing c.) Shall we let 
him come in just for a minute? 

Wilton. (Rising) Certainly, if you like. 

Emmie. I won't if you mind, Harry, but I 
thought 

Wilton. Mind? Why should I mind? Do you 
want me to go out? 

Emmie. Why, no — I can have him in the music 
room. No. . . . (Starts up.) No. I won't see 
him at all, Conners. (Exit Connors l.u. Emmie 
comes hack, sits on arm of Wilton's chair.) Harry 
— you know I'm never sleepy — but to-night some- 
how or other I — I — am — I think perhaps it's being 
with you. I mean, we're so sort of comfortable and 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 57 

quiet here alone together ... do you think it would 
be all right for me to go to bed? 

Wilton. I should think it would be the very 
thing — and I'll tell you — no, I guess you wouldn't 
like that 

Emmie. Harry — were you going to say you'd 
come and read to me? 

Wilton. But you wouldn't like that, would you? 

Emmie. It would be perfect, Harry. 

Wilton. No, we'd better put it off till some other 
time. You know I'm going to be ruined for several 
evenings. 

Emmie. Oh, it's been such a wonderful evening. 
You know I think being ruined is almost like being 
drugged — everything seems like a dream. 

Wilton. What do you know about being 
drugged? 

Emmie. Nothing, of course, but what Tve heard. 
(Goes R.J 

Marguerite. (Entering) I came to say good- 
night, Father. 

Eddie. (Entering in dressing gown) I came to 
say good-night, Dad. 

Wilton. Why, how very nice. Just the way 
you used to when you were kids. 

Marguerite. Before you were so busy 

Wilton. And before you were so busy. 

Eddie. It's a good thing to cut out being busy 
once in a while. 

Wilton. I think so too. 

Eddie. I've done some thinking to-night. Dad. 

Wilton. Have you really? 

Eddie. You bet I have — and I'm not through yet. 

Wilton. Do you think it's a good thing to start 
in all at once like that ? 

Eddie. You bet it's a good thing. 



58 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. Well, all right — then I won^t say any- 
thing to stop you. 

Marguerite. I've been thinking, too. But I sup- 
pose I won't have to if I marry Clarence. 

Wilton. Clarence? 

Marguerite. Could you love any one who mar- 
ried you for your money, Father? 

Wilton. Why, of course. You can't help lov- 
ing some people no matter what they do. 

Marguerite. Clarence doesn't mind. It's really 
nice of him. When you think of the fuss some 
people make about it. 

Wilton. It's not a good idea to marry just for 
that — ^you'll have time to think it over, won't you ? 

Marguerite. Oh, yes 

Wilton. You're very young, you know. 

Marguerite. That's it, dear — I'd like to marry 
while I'm young — so that if it's a mistake I can do 
something about it and still have my life before me. 

Eddie. To make some more 

Marguerite. Clarence says if he has two years 
he'll be satisfied. Well, not exactly satisfied, but 
thankful. 

Eddie. Oh, that's ridiculous. Julie and I are go- 
ing to be married for life. Even if we are miser- 
able. It's more dignified, I think. Don't you, 
Father ? 

Wilton. Well, perhaps it is if you can stand it. 

Eddie. What's the use just going on marrying 
one person after another? If Julie isn't the right 
one, it's a cinch the next will be a flivver. 

Wilton. She seems to be a very nice girl — and 
she has money, of course? 

Eddie. I wouldn't touch it. Besides, I don't 
think she has very much. Old Uncle Jerry pays 
the bills, I guess; and he's pretty close. 

Wilton. Maybe you can get him over that. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 59 

Eddie. If I go in with him, you mean. Well, 
I've got a few ideas — believe me. 

Marguerite. I'm sleepy, dear. 

Eddie. So am I. 

Wilton. What do you say if we all have break- 
fast together and talk things over? 

Eddie. All right, that'll be fine. Good-night, 
Dad. 

Marguerite. Good-night, Dad. 

(Exit Marguerite, Eddie and Emmie r.u. Wil- 
ton goes up to door zmth them; kisses Emmie, 
He comes back to fireplace.) 

Albertine. (Entering L.u.j Excuse me, Mr. 
Wilton. Can I speak to you for one minute? 

Wilton. You evidently can, Albertine. 

Albertine. Mr. Wilton — I — er — I think I can't 
stay — I mean I mus' go. I think. 

Wilton, (r. Lighting cigar from taboret) Oh, 
really ? Have you told Mrs. Wilton ? 

READY door-hell. 

Albertine. No — not yet — I 

Wilton. Well, perhaps it's just as well for you 
to go, Albertine. Your habit of listening at doors 
is not a desirable one. I knew a man who tripped 
over a girl listening at a door once and hurt himself 
quite badly. 

Albertine. I don' do eet. An' if you think I 
make you trouble you are veeree wrong. I could 
make so much trouble, but always I say "no, I weel 
not do eet." 

Wilton. Oh, you could make a lot of trouble 
if you wanted to, could you ? 

Albertine. I could — for all the time M'sieu 
Rafaelo is painting Mrs. Wilton's picture in his 
studio, I am there and I see — eet ees so plain — but I 



6o A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

say nossing — I do not want to make trouble — I like 
Mrs. Wilton — I like her verree, verree much. I 
will tell you something 

Wilton. That's where you make a mistake right 
at the start. You won't tell me anything. 

Albertine. There is one thing Monsieur should 

know 

DOOR-BELL. 

Wilton. There's one thing I do know and that 
is you're going, and as long as you are going, I think 
I might as well pay you. 

Albertine. Pay me? Oh, no, please. If you 
can pay me, I don't want to go'. 

Wilton. But we can't consult you in the matter. 
We'll let Mrs. Wilton decide, and meantime try to 
find some interest in life besides listening at key- 
holes. 

Albertine. (Meekly) Very well, Monsieur. 
(Exits R.U.J 

Connors. (Entering) It's the man with the 
tickets for the prize fight, Mr. Wilton — I took the 
liberty of telHng him that Mr. Eddie has changed 
his mind about going, sir, but he don't seem incHned 
to leave. 

Wilton. I guess the best way to get rid of him 
is to give him the money for them. 

Connors. (Doubtfully) Fifty dollars, sir? 

READY voice. 

Wilton. (Giving him the money) We can't let 
him lose it, Connors — so you might as well take the 
tickets. 

Connors. Mr. Eddie has gone to bed, sir 

Wilton. I know it — every one has gone to bed 
except you and me, Connors. And I feel wide 
awake and strangely exhilarated. 

Connors. (Admiringly) Do you, sir? Well, 
now, that's good. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 6i 

Wilton. What would you think, Connors, of our 
going to the prize fight? 

Connors. Why, Mr. Wilton, sir 

Wilton. Do you like to see a fight, Connors? 

• READY curtain. 

Connors. Well, sir, I confess that I did, sir, but 
it*s been so long since I've seen one. I used to get 
to go in England once in a while to a really fine 
bout. I saw The Sparrow when he knocked out 
Hurricane Harry Wells, sir — perhaps you remember 
reading of it. Hurricane Harry was by rights a 
heavyweight, sir 

Wilton. The Sparrow was a featherweight, I 
take it? 

Voice. (In hall) Well, what are you going to 
do about it? 

Connors. And when the. Hurricane weighed in, 



sir- 



Wilton. You'd better pay that man and get the 
tickets. 

Connors. Very well, sir. 

Wilton. Get your coat, Connors, and mine 

(Connors exits, re-entering with coats and tickets.) 
What did the man say? 

Connors. He seemed much relieved, sir. 

Wilton. So was I — of fifty dollars. 

(Connors helps Wilton on with coat and hands 
him the tickets.) 

Wilton. (Looking at tickets) Having spent a 
quiet evening at home, we will now see Frederick 
Ebbets, the Sierra Cyclone, and Billy Huffhauser, 
the Sledge Hammer of Seattle, fight it out at the 
Garden. 

(Exit Wilton and Connors l.u., arm in arm.) 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Scene I : The same. 

At Rise: Pietro discovered sitting in front of the 
fireplace r. Enter Emmie r.u. carrying jewel 
case. 

Pietro. (Rising) Ah — good morning, fair lady. 

Emmie. Pietro — did you think it perfectly dread- 
ful of me ? 

Pietro. Dreadful of you? 

Emmie. To call you up at such an hour last night. 

Pietro. I was up — you did not wake me — and if 
you had — to think that at last you need me — it is 
splendeed ! 

Emmie. (Indicating jewel case) I've all m.y 
jewels in here, Pietro. It seems such a dreadful 
thing to do — when he gave them to me. 

Pietro. Dreadful — no, it is life. Let us go- 
courage ! I have a taxi waiting. 

Emmie. It seems queer to go in a taxi 

READY door-hell. 

Pietro. Yes — but you will get used to eet 

Marguerite. (Entering r.u.J Oh — good morn- 
ing, Mr. Rafaelo. 

Pietro. Ah buon giorno, Signorina. 

Marguerite. You going out, Sweetie? 

Emmie. Yes, it's such a heavenly morning, I'm 
going for a little walk in the Park with Pietro. 

62 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 63 

Marguerite. Oh. . . . Father's asleep, Sweetie. 
Don't you think Connors should wake him ? 

Emmie. No, I don't. Let him sleep. 

DOOR-BELL. 

Marguerite. But maybe there's something he 
ought to attend to down town. 

Emmie. Why, there isn't anything to attend to. 
No, dear, at least now that he's ruined he can sleep. 

(Enter Connors l.u.J 

Connors. Mr, Struthers and Mr. Rivers call- 
ing. (Remains r. of l.u.J 

Emmie. (Going up to l.u.J Come, Pietro. Bye- 
bye, dear. 

Marguerite. What shall I say to father. Sweetie, 
if he asks for you? 

Emmie. I don't think he will — not if you let him 
sleep. 

Pietro. Addio, Signorina. 

(Emmie and Pietro exit l.u. Connors crosses and 
stands l.u.e.J 

Connors. (At'L.v.E.) Which will you see, Miss ? 
Marguerite. I suppose I may as well see them 
both, Connors, and get it over with. 

(Connors exits. Enter George l.u. J 

George. What's Rivers doing here so early in 
the morning? 

Marguerite. Perhaps he came to ask if there 
was anything he could do for father. 

George. I'd like to speak to you. Marguerite, for 
a few minutes if you don't mind. 

Marguerite. Why should I? I've nothing to 



64 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

fear from you now — you've refused to marry me. 

George. How can you say such terrible things? 
I suppose you'd go right on saying them after we 
were married, too. 

Marguerite. Well, you don't have to worry 
about that, do you? 

George. I don't know whether I do or not. Per- 
haps I was a little hasty last night. I got to think- 
ing after I left you. 

Marguerite. You should have begun a little 
earlier in the evening, George. 

George. But you'll admit it did look suspicious. 
Still, if you say that your father's trouble had noth- 
ing to do with your seeing me, and taking an in- 
terest in the plans, I'll believe you. 

Marguerite. But how do I know, George ? Now 
that you've put the idea in my mind I think you 
may be right. I certainly want to help father. 

George. Do you care more for your father than 
you do for me? 

Marguerite. Why, George Struthers, don't be 
ridiculous! Of course I do! No man in the world 
could be to me what father is. 

Clarence. (Entering) Does George want to be 
a father to you? 

George. Now for some real wit! 

Marguerite. (Crossing to Clarence, speaking 
softly) Terrible things have happened this morn- 
ing. I wish George would go. 

Clarence. She wishes you'd go, George. Ter- 
rible things have happened this morning. Maybe 
you're one of 'em. I don't know. Call around 
next week when we're more settled, there's a dear 
old thing! 

George. I don't appreciate your comedy this 
morning, Clarence. 

Clarence. You never do. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 65 

George. V/e were having a little private conver- 
sation, which if you don't mind we will continue. 

Clarence. Go ahead — I'd like to hear it. 

Marguerite. George was trying to find out it" 
my motives in marrying had become mercenary. 

Clarence. Of course they have. Why, she's 
even thinkii.g of marrying me. 

George. What ! 

Clarence. When it comes to helping a ruined 
father, I guess Fm some suitor, too. 

George. I demand an explanation. 

Clarence. What kind would you like? 

George. I want to understand this thing thor- 
oughly. 

Clarence. Well, I can explain, but that you'll 
understand I can't promise, naturally. 

George. Marguerite, I want to know if there is 
anything between you and this man. (Crossing to 
her.) 

Marguerite. I don't know, George. I almost 
begin to think there is. 

George. Since when — if I may ask? 

Clarence. You may ask — but there doesn't seem 
to be any answer. 

Marguerite. Since last night. 

George. I see. It was the sleeping porch. W^ell 
—I might have known. "Let him dream on." 

Clarence. Can't you dream on, on the sleeping 
porch? What's the matter with it? 

George. (Accusingly to Marguerite j I suppose 
you thought I picked out the best rooms for myself. 

Marguerite. Why, I didn't at all. I never 
thought of such a thing. But why shouldn't you, 
George ? 

George. (Gloomily) And only to think, Hoakum 
and Birdsall said, when they gave me the plans, this 
house was to be a real home. 



66 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Clarence. That shows how much they knew 
about it. 

Marguerite. The house can be built anyway, 
George — you'll marry somebody — and then there are 
all your relatives — who will visit you. 

Clarence, Yes — perhaps Hoakum and Birdsall 
have some relatives, too — and there might be little 
Hoakum and Birdsalis to make it jolly at Christmas. 
Don't take a gloomy view of it, George. 

George. Weil, I'll build the house and I'll live 
in it, and when you think of me in that cold, empty 
nursery, you'll be sorry. Good-bye. (Exits l.d.) 

Clarence. (Goes l.c.J How*s your father? 

Marguerite. Why, he's asleep. 

READY door-bell. 

Clarence. Really? Isn't he v/onderful? Crib- 
bage the first night, and oversleeps the first morn- 
ing. Simply gorgeous. But he'll make another for- 
tune in a few minutes. And you won't need me at 
all. Let's be married at once, to be on the safe side 
— will you? 

(Enter Connors r.u., agitated.) 

Marguerite. What is it, Connors ? 

Connors. Excuse me, Miss — I'm alarmed about 
your father. I've tried to wake him and I can't. 

Marguerite. You can't wake him? 

Connors. No, Miss. I've sent for Dr. Broodie. 

Marguerite. Is he coming? % 

Connors. Yes, Miss ; he says he'll be right over. 

Clarence. Maybe / could do something. 

Connors. No, sir. I tried everything, sir. First 
I spoke — and then I shook him a little — and then I 
— I was quite rough with him. (Bell rings.) And 
I put cold water to his head — but he never moved. 
(Exit Connors l.u. hurriedly.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 67 

Marguerite. Oh, Clarence — I'm afraid! 

Clarence. No — no — don't be. I'm sure it's noth- 
ing. They have a terrible time with me every morn- 
ing. 

(Enter Dr. Broodie l.u. down.) 

Broodie. What's all this about your father over- 
sleeping, Marguerite? 

Marguerite. Oh, I'm so worried. Doctor Broodie. 

Broodie. Now, now, don't worry. I'll just wake 
him right up and ask him about it. (Exits r.u. up- 
stairs.) 

Marguerite. I must go to him, Clarence. (Exits 
R.V., upstairs.) 

(Enter Albertine l.u.J 

Albertine. Oh, mon Dieu, this is terrible 

Clarence. There, Albertine — don't get excited 
about it — the doctor's here . . . 

Albertine. Doctor? What is that to me? — I 
will be accused of it — I know I will. 

Clarence. Accused of what? 

Albertine. Madame, she is gone and leave all 
the suspicions to me. ... I always am good as I 
know how — I never do anything wrong — and now 
look how I find myself . . . 

Clarence. What are you talking about, Alber- 
tine? 

Albertine. Madame Weelton go away with 
M'sieu Rafaelo and take all her jewels — yes — she do 
not come back. I know it — an' leave all the suspi- 
cions to me. 

Clarence. My poor girl, you're raving. 

Albertine. Raving! Madame act very strange 
all the morning — she hope Mr. Weelton do not wake 



68 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

up before she get away. She ask for the jewels — 
et je lui ai demande — "Vous porter ies bijoux ce 
matin?" Madame ne responds pas elle me regarde 
un moment comme ca et puis elle jette a Ies bijoux 
dans la boite. 

Clarence. Mais, er — explique — explique in Eng- 
lish, Albertine 

Albertine. Et moi ! Oh, que je suis mal- 
heureuse. Tous, tous Ies bijoux sont parti 

Clarence. Mais explique — explique, Albertine. 
lis appartiennent a Madame n'est ce pas? Why 
shouldn't she take them if she wants to? Where do 
you think she's gone ? 

Albertine. Oh, mon Dieu, I don't know. Mais 
je suis bien sure qu'elle ne reviendra jamais. 

Clarence. Ridiculous — of course she'll return — 
you're getting up a lot of excitement over nothing, 
Albertine. I'm surprised at you. 

Albertine. Parti — parti avec M'sieu Rafaelo — 
ells ne retournera jamais — pauvre M'sieu Weelton ! 

(Enter Dr. Broodie r.u. downstairs with glass. 
Exit Albertine r.u.J 

Broodie. W^hat's the matter with her? 

Clarence. She's just a little worried in French 
about Mr. Wilton. How is he, Doctor? 

Broodie. Oh, he's all right — that is, he will be 
in an hour or two. He's a bit dazed. Do you hap- 
pen to know, Clarence, if he was worried about any- 
thing last night? 

Clarence. Why, yes — I believe he was. Some 
business trouble — I don't know the particulars. 

Broodie. Oh — was it anything serious? 

Clarence. Well — rather — yes, I believe it was. 

Broodie. Ah — that would account for it. I — er 
— I found this glass by his bed — containing a very 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 69 

strong solution of a certain drug — only a few drops 
remained in the glass. (Puts glass on table c.) 

Clarence. Good Heavens ! Do you think he 
tried to 

Broodie. It looks like it. He doesn't remember 
doing it — but then, he doesn't remember anything 
that he did last night. The effect of the drug will 
wear oflf during the day. I have Connors walking 
him up and down the hall — he must move about for 
a little and I don't want him left alone. Are you 
going to be here? 

Clarence. I'll stay, of course. 

(Enter Wilton, Connors and Marguerite r.u.J 

Wilton. I can walk all right, Connors — if you 
can. Now suppose I sit down. 

Broodie. (Crossing to WiltonJ No, no, Mr. 
Wilton — you can't sit down. 

Wilton. Oh yes, I can sit down. 

Marguerite. Are you all right, Father? Do you 
think you ought to be here? 

Wilton. I don't think I am. Not all here. 
Broodie, I am trying to remember all those things 
you told me to, about last night. I can't seem to 
think of any of them, except I remember talking to 
Mrs. W^ilton in her room, and I think she gave me a 
glass of water. 

Broodie. Ah, yes. I dare say. It's not at all 
uncommon. 

Wilton. What isn't? 

Broodie, Connecting some person who was not 
present with the act. But don't worry, Mr. Wilton. 
Keep the mind active, but think of trivial things, if 
possible. And — er — just walk, Mr. Wilton — we will 
just walk together as we are talking. 



70 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

(Broodie walks Wilton across stage l. and back 
again R. Wilton stops r.c.) 

Wilton. Haven't you any patients who are ill 
to see this morning? 

Broodie. None that my assistant cannot attend 
to, Mr. Wilton — he is quite competent. 

Wilton. What's your assistant's name ? I want 
to send for him. 

Broodie. (Walking Wilton up stage and across 
to R.) Walking this way tends to keep up the cir- 
culation. 

Wilton. Well, you keep up your circulation. 
You walk all you like. 

Broodie. And afterwards I should recommend a 
complete rest, Mr. Wilton. 

Wilton. I'd like to have the rest now. 

Broodie. Now, I know a nice, quiet place — I 
should really like to go there myself. 

Wilton. Well, why don't you — ^they'll be glad 
to see you. (Goes to cigar case and takes out large 
black cigar.) 

Broodie. Don't, Mr. Wilton — you couldn't do 
anything worse. Why, a cigar like that would put 
me out of business. 

Wilton. (Holding box toward him) Would it? 
Have one. 

Broodie. No, no, thank you. Now tell me, how 
about the head? 

Wilton. What head? 

Broodie. Your head. Can you turn it from 
side to side? 

Wilton. I could if I wanted to. (He takes 
cigar and lights it.) 

Broodie. No, Mr. Wilton. (Takes cigar out of 
WiLTON^s hand and throws it in fireplace and crosses 

to R.) 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 71 

Wilton. Really, Broodie, I think you ought to 
go to that quiet place you spoke of. (To Connors 
up c.) Connors, where's Mrs. Wilton? 

Connors. She had her breakfast early, Mr. Wil- 
ton — and went out. 

Wilton. Oh ! I'll have my breakfast and go out. 

Connors. I'll serve it at once. Mr. Wilton, in the 
breakfast room. (To Doctorj Will eggs be all 
right, Doctor? 

Wilton. How does the doctor know whether 
the eggs will be all right or not? 

Broodie. Vd suggest a light breakfast, Mr. Wil- 
ton. You see, you are in a weakened condition and 
naturally the gastric juices recover slowly from a 
shock of this kind. Sometimes it's a matter of 
years. 

Wilton. Well, perhaps you'd better not wait, 
then. Doctor. 

Marguerite. After you've had your breakfast, 
you'll lie down, won't you, dear? 

Wilton. Lie down? Certainly not. When I 
just had all this trouble getting up? Besides, I 
must get down to the office. 

Marguerite. What for? 

Wilton. What for? What do I usually go 
downtown for? To attend to business. 

Marguerite. You haven't forgotten, have you, 
dear? 

Wilton, Forgotten what? (Sits c.) 

(Doctor sits in chair r.c.) 

Marguerite. What you told us last night? 

Wilton. I guess I have — I don't remember tell- 
ing you anything last night. Where did I go last 
night, Connors? 

Connors. Why, you dined at home, sir — and 



72 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

spent quite an evening at home — most of the evening, 
I might say, sir — you played cribbage with Mrs. 
Wilton. 

Wilton. Did I really? Well, that must have 
been very pleasant. And then what? 

Connors. And then, sir, Mrs. Wilton retired 
early, sir. 

Wilton. And did I retire early ? 

Connors. No, sir — you — that is to say — we 

Do you really want me to tell what we did, sir? 

Wilton. Why, yes — if it's not too disgraceful. 

Connors. Why, we went to the prize fight, sir. 

Wilton. What? 

Connors. To see the Sledgehammer of Seattle 
knock out the Sierra Cyclone, sir. 

Marguerite. Father ! 

Wilton. That's just what I was going to say. 
Did I enjoy the fight, Connors? 

Connors. Oh, yes, sir. We had a splendid time. 
You seemed to forget everything, sir. 

Wilton. That seems to be the best thing I do. 

Marguerite. You weren't yourself. Father, or 
you wouldn't have gone. 

Wilton. How do you mean, I wasn't myself? 

Marguerite. I can't bear to tell you, dear 

Wilton. Why, yes — ^you must. What is it? 

Marguerite. It's as hard for me to tell you as 
it was for you to tell us. 

Wilton. What did I tell u^f 

Marguerite. That you're ruined, dear. Don't 
feel too dreadfully about it. 

Wilton. Ruined? How ridiculous! 

Marguerite. No, dear — it isn't — it's true. 

Wilton. Did I really say that? 

Marguerite Yes. It's true, isn't it, Connors? 

Connors. Yes, Miss. That was why we went 
to the prize fight, sir. To cheer you up. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 73 

Wilton. I must have some reason for saying 
such a thing. Why, it is inconceivable that there 
could be anything wrong. Ruined and going to a 
prize fight ! I ask you, Broodie 

Broodie. Well, such things do occur. Don't you 
remember the famous Hotaling and Higginson fail- 
ure ? Higginson was found at the circus, you know, 
with a bag of peanuts and a glass of red lemonade — 
just as though nothing had happened. 

Wilton. Well, but Higginson is in an insane 
asylum ! 

Broodie. Yes, I know, but that doesn't necessarily 
follow. 

Wilton. Well, really — I'll telephone to the office. 

Connors. Mr. Belden has been on the phone, sir, 
and he's on his way up here. 

Wilton. Did he seem disturbed, Connors? 

Connors. Why yes, sir, a little. 

Broodie. Don't you be disturbed about anything, 
Mr. Wilton. Take everything easily, that's the main 
thing — and don't anticipate anything but good news 
until you see Mr. Belden. 

Wilton. Oh, you think Belden is coming to 
bring me good news ? 

Broodie. Well, you might as well think that way 
until he comes. 

Wilton. I see, so as to get the benefit of the 
shock. Connors, see if Mrs. Wilton is dressed. Oh ! 
I forgot, you said she had gone out. 

Broodie. Sometimes a light novel at a moment 
like this. Do you think you could read ? 

Wilton. Read? Why, of course I can read, if 
I haven't forgotten how. 

Broodie. Well, I would suggest something of 
Emily Braddon's, for instance, if you have it — some- 
thing very light. 

Wilton. Why not make it something heavy. 



74 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

then I could throw it at some one. Oh, I can see 
so clearly now how people go crazy. 

Broodie. No, don't, Mr. Wilton, 
have my breakfast. (Softly to Connors. j I'd 
rather take a chance with almost any ^gg than that 
doctor! (Exits r.u., followed by Connors. j 

Broodie. (To Marguerite^ I'll go back to my 
office for about an hour, then I'll come back. 

Marguerite. Do you feel alarmed about him, 
Doctor ? 

Broodie. Oh, no, no ; but I want to keep my eye 
on him. 

Marguerite. Oh, of course. Well, good-bye, 
Doctor, for a little while. 

Broodie. Good morning. (Exits l.u. Meets 
Eddie in hallway.) 

Eddie. Hello, Doc. 

Broodie. (In hallway) Good morning, young 
man. 

Clarence, (i..) He does seem dazed, doesn't he ? 

Marguerite. (Crosses l. to ClarenceJ Sweetie 
ought to be here. I don't see how she can stay away 
like this. (Enter Eddie l.u.j Eddie, where have 
you been ? 

Eddie. I've been to the office. 

Marguerite. Father's office? 

Eddie. No — Partington's office. I've gone to 
work. 

Marguerite. Just the one morning you could 
have been of some use at home. 

Eddie. Why — what's the matter? 

Marguerite. Father's overslept, for one thing — 
and it had a terrible effect on him — he forgot all 
about everything — he forgot that he was ruined, and 
I had to tell him. 

Eddie. What ! You mean to say he forgot that 
he'd gone up? 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 75 

Marguerite. Yes. 

Eddie. No one down town seemed to know it 
until I told them. 

Clarence, (u Who has been thoughtful) Tell 

me (To MargueriteJ Do you happen to know 

where Mrs. Wilton has gone? 

Marguerite, (^l.c.j Yes — for a stroll in the 
Park with Rafaelo — she's feeding the squirrels, 
while father's ruined. . . . 

Clarence. Oh — but they went in a taxi. 

Marguerite. A taxi? 

Clarence. But why shouldn't they? 

Marguerite. But why should they? Sweetie 
•^said she was going for a stroll — and she never rides 
in a taxi. 

Clarence. Well — I — er — there's something per- 
haps I ought to tell you — there isn't a word of truth 
in it. . . . (Hesitates.) 

Eddie. Well, go ahead — that ought to be easy 
for you. 

Clarence. Well, it's just that Albertine has been 
telling me that Mrs. Wilton has taken all her jewels 
and gone off with Rafaelo. 

Marguerite. How awful to say such things ! 

Clarence. I think Albertine should be spoken to. 
It's perfectly ridiculous, of course — ^but you don't 
want her saying those things to callers — exactly. 

Marguerite. But wouldn't it be terrible if it 
was true? 

Clarence. Don't be foolish. 

Eddie. It's easy enough to look and see if they're 
gone. (Starts up R.j 

Clarence. Wait — ^there's something else — I want 
you to be very nice to your father. 

Marguerite. Why, Clarence Rivers ! 

Clarence. Well — because Dr. Broodie seems to 



-je A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

think the poor, dear, wonderful man just tried to 
end everything last night. 

Eddie. I don't believe it — father's not that sort. 

Marguerite. I should say not ! Father despises 
men who fail — and kill themselves just when their 
families need money. 

Clarence. (Crosses to table) Well — Dr. Broodie 
found this glass by his bed with a drug in it. 

Marguerite, (c.) This glass? (Taking it.) 
Why, Eddie — it's Sweetie's glass — from the amber 
set we gave her ! 

Eddie. Smells Hke perfume. 

Marguerite. Father said he remembered Sweetie 

giving him a glass of water How terrible ! This 

is evidence, Eddie. Perhaps you'd better take it. 
(Holding out glass.) 

Eddie. I don't want to hold it. Set it down 
somewhere. 

Marguerite. If Albertine g 's it, she'll tell all 
the servants. 

Eddie. Why not break it? 

Marguerite. It would be fc . We don't want 
to have everyone know that .^ i to poison him, 

do we? 

Eddie. No — just a few friends, I should think. 

Marguerite. It's so hard to know what to do, 
Eddie. 

Eddie. I really think we ought to tell him. He's 
got to be told. 

Marguerite. Sh ! (Puts glass on table.) 

(Wilton and Connors enter.) 

Eddie. Well, Father, how are you this morning? 

Wilton. Well, I'm recovering from a prize fight, 
a dose of poison and a few little things like that. 
How are you? 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 'j'j 

Eddie. I'm going to make you proud of me yet, 
Father. Maybe this has all happened just to bring 
me out. 

Wilton. Oh, really? Do you think there's a 
chance of that? 

Eddie. I've been at old Partington's office and — 
er — I think I'm going to do a lot there, Father. I 
think old Partington himself will be surprised. 

Wilton. I daresay. 

Eddie. I'm going to get him interested in golf, 
for one thing. He needs fresh air. I talked to him 
about it, until he left his office to speak to somebody. 

Wilton. Had some business to attend to, per- 
haps. 

Eddie. Perhaps. Well, then I opened all the 
windows. I tell you the air was stifling, Father. 
The whole place needs ventilation. I don't see how 
people work in such an atmosphere. 

READY door-bell. 

Wilton. Opened the windows, did you ? Do you 
occupy the position of window-cleaner down there? 
That's a dangerous pursuit, and I don't care to have 
you do it. 

Eddie. Marguerite says you've forgotten all about 
last night, Dad. I wish you would just forget it — 
for I'm going to be able to take care of us all 

Wilton. I am hazy about last night, Eddie. But 
I think there must be some mistake. Belden will 
be here directly and then I'll know what it's all about. 
(Starts up R. as Connors enters.) 

Marguerite. Where are you going, dear? 

Wilton. I thought I'd better not go down town 
in this (Points to smoking jacket.) 

Marguerite. Let Connors go with you, dear. 

Wilton. Nonsense! Connors, just watch these 
people, particularly Mr. Eddie! Don't let him get 
near any of the windows. 



78 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

(Exit Wilton r.u. Door-bell. Connors exits l.uJ 

Marguerite. Eddie, why didn't you tell him? 

Eddie. Oh, I couldn't. I'll just have a look 
around upstairs first. (Exits r.u. upstairs.) 

Marguerite. Now we must decide what to do, 
Clarence. I thought Eddie would tell him. (Crosses 
to Clarence l.) 

Clarence. Well, why not wait and see what hap- 
pens? 

Marguerite. Oh ! Do you think anything more 
is going to happen? 

(Connors and Belden appear at l.u. in hallway.) 

Connors. If you will wait a moment, sir, Mr. 
Wilton will see you. 
Belden. Please, as quickly as possible. 

(Connors crosses r.u. Enter Belden l.u. He 
comes down stage r. and paces excitedly from 
L. to R. and back. As he reaches l.c. Mar- 
guerite speaks) 

Marguerite. Good morning, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. (Continuing his walk) Good morning. 
(Goes L., turns and stops l.c. on way back.) What's 
all this I hear about your father? 

Marguerite. What have you heard, Mr. Bel- 
den. 

Belden. Good Heavens — what haven't I heard! 
(Resumes walking.) 

Clarence. Do you think we're in his way? 

Marguerite. Yes. I think we'd better go, Clar- 
ence. 

Clarence. Now's our chance. 

(Exit Clarence and Marguerite l.u. Wilton 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 79 

enters r.u. Stands in doorway, watching Bel- 
den, who is still walking up and down.) 

Wilton. My God, John, have they got you 
walking, too? 

Belden. (Stops c.) Walking? 

Wilton. (Coming down r.c.) I hope you don*t 
object to my smoking, John. I had a terrible time 
to light this cigar — had to go out in the street to 
do it. 

Belden. Good Heavens, Henry, what is all this ? 

Wilton. Have you noticed it, too? 

Belden. Noticed what? 

Wilton. The family. I can't imagine what's the 
matter with them all. 

Belden. No, no, about you — us ! Do you realize 
that they are circulating a report that you are ruined, 
down on the Street ? 

Wilton. They're circulating it up here, too. Do 
you think there's anything in it, Belden? 

Belden. Henry, you astonish me. 

Wilton. Who's doing it? 

Belden. It started in Partington's office. And 1 
understand that Eddie is responsible for it. 

Wilton. Eddie? 

Belden. He had a talk with Partington, and as 
the result of it, Partington threw all his B. & D. 
stock on the market. I bought it, of course, at a 
ridiculous figure. I knew there was nothing wrong. 
We must have cleared up eight million dollars this 
morning. 

Wilton. Good Heavens ! Well — I don't see what 
we can do about it, Belden. Then we're not ruined ? 

Belden. Ruined ? I should say not. People will 
be surprised, Henry — Wilton and Belden making 
money in any such way as this. 

Wilton, No more surprised than we are. 



8o A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Belden. Why, they couldn't do anything with 
Partington. He acted like a maniac. (Crosses r.c.J 

Wilton. That's nothing unusual for him. 

Belden. Lwas amazed that he held so much of 
the stock. He might have pushed us pretty hard 
for the control — if it had happened in any other way 
I would be very much elated, Henry, but it*s really 
as near dishonor as / care to come. 

Wilton. Well, it's near Partington — that's why. 

Belden. I'm afraid we ought to keep Eddie out 
of business, Henry. 

Wilton. Well, he can retire now. I suppose 
he'll get a percentage of the eight million. But what 
could he have said . . . ? 

Belden. Why, he went down there to get a po- 
sition. That in itself looked suspicious. And then 
I understand that there was something about his 
supporting the family and so on. 

Wilton. Wait a minute. Sit down, John. (Bel- 
den sits R.c. on ottoman. Wilton sits.) It's com- 
ing back to me now, about last night. I'm begin- 
ning to remember the whole thing. I did — I said — 
I said — I was ruined. 

Belden. What! You said you were ruined? 

Wilton. It's all my fault, John. It was all on 
account of song recitals, teas, pajamas 

Belden. What's wrong with you, Henry? 

Wilton. It all started with Connors, because you 
see "the poor don't get to go very often." I was very 
tired and I wanted to spend a quiet evening at home, 
so I said I was ruined and went to a prize fight. 

Belden. Have you seen a doctor, Henry? 

Wilton. Have I seen a doctor? I should say 
I have. Why, he woke me up, took my cigar away 
from me, then he walked me up and down this room 
for miles, and during the excursion he spoke in the 
most alluring terms of lunatic asylums. You see, 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 8i 

when I went to bed, I was thirsty and I took a drink 
of poison. 

Belden. What? 

Wilton. That's what the doctor said. Don't 
be alarmed, Belden, I don't make a general practice 
of it. 

Belden. But, Henry, you can't mean 

Wilton. Of course — that's why I overslept this 
morning. At least that's what they say. But, Bel- 
den, it's worth it all, really. 

Belden. You mean you made eight million dol- 
lars by it? 

Wilton. I mean the way they rallied 'round me — 
that was why I kept it up. Why, look at this! 
(Takes out Connors' hank-book.) My old butler 
offered me all his savings. 

Belden. Oh, we made more than eight million — 

Wilton. And every one of my family, instead 
of reproaching me Belden, why, it was beau- 
tiful. We all sat around the fire and everybody 
went to sleep. It was the happiest — that is, under 
the circumstances 

Belden. It's all a puzzle to me. You told them 
you were ruined? 

Wilton. Yes, I wanted to spend the evening at 
home and I wanted them, to stay with me. 

Belden. Well, why didn't you ask them to? 

Wilton. Well, I didn't like to do that. 

Belden. Aren't you the master of your own 
house ? 

Wilton. I suppose I am, but the house was go- 
ing to be here anyhow. You can't be the master of 
the people in a house, Belden, if they're any good. 
You know that. 

Belden. But don't they consider your wishes? 

Wilton. Maybe they do — consider them ridicu- 
lous. I don't know. 



82 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Belden. Well (Rises.) I should try to 

think of some other way to keep my family at home, 
Henry. I really should. It might not always turn 
out so well. 

Wilton. I'll consider what you say, John. It 
sounds as if there was something in it, and I'll be 
down a little later. 

Belden. All right, Henry. You are full of sur- 
prises — but, after all, that is what has made Wilton 
and Belden. Oh — er — if Eddie goes into business 
with anybody — perhaps it had better be with us. 

Wilton. Yes, I'll speak to him about that. I'm 
sorry you had all that worry, John, and I want to 
tell you I feel just as badly as you do about that 
eight million. 

(Marguerite and Clarence enter l.u. Come 

down L.J 

Belden. (To MargueriteJ I feel better now 
that I've had a talk with your father. 

Marguerite. I'm so glad of that, Mr. Belden. 

Belden. Are you going, Mr. Rivers? If so, we'll 
just walk along together. 

Clarence. Thanks. No, I don't believe I could 
keep up with you ! 

Belden. All right, then. Bye-bye — see you later, 
Henry. (Exits l.u.J 

Clarence. (Crossing to Wilton j Good morn- 
ing, Mr. Wilton. I heard — how things were last 
night, and I just want to say that I think you're play- 
ing cribbage with Mrs. Wilton was one of the bravest 
things I ever heard of. 

Wilton. Really? She doesn't play — very well. 

Clarence. With all your own trouble, I hate to 
inflict any of mine on you, but I — er — I want very 
much to marry Marguerite, if you don't object. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 83 

Wilton. Well, but I thought she was going to 
marry some one else. (Crossing l. to Marguerite^ 
Or are you going to marry George first — or what is 
the arrangement? 

Marguerite. I zvas going to marry George, dear, 
but that was last night. 

Wilton. Early in the evening. 

Marguerite. Later, I decided to marry Clar- 
ence. 

Wilton. You're not marrying Clarence on my 
account, are you ? 

Marguerite. Not entirely. 

Clarence. Isn't that ripping! Well, now, that's 
disposed of, Mr. Wilton, I want you to treat me like 
a son. 

Wilton. I'm afraid I can't afford it. I've got 
one son running around somewhere. 

Clarence. I told Webb of our offtce that any- 
thing we have that will be of use to you is at your 
disposal, including the doorplate. Webb, you know, 
is very quiet. 

Wilton. That's very good of you, but it won't 
be necessary. Belden has been here and everything 
is going to be all right. 

Marguerite. Father — not really! 

Wilton. Oh, yes — and I — er — I feel disturbed 
about Emmie, Marguerite. Did you see her before 
she went out? Was she worried? Of course she 
must have been. 

Marguerite. Oh, Father dear — yes, I did see her. 

Wilton. What is it ? 

Marguerite. (Crossing r.) Oh, darling, I can't 
bear to tell you. If you don't want me to, I won't 
marry anybody — I'll always stay with you — to make 
up for it. 



84 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

(Eddie enters l.u.) 

Wilton. (To ClarenceJ Do you know what 
she means? 

Clarence. Why, yes — I think it's absurd. 

Wilton. Go on — tell me. 

Clarence. She thinks that Mrs. Wilton has 
gone, you see- 



WiLTON. Gone where? 

Marguerite. She has gone, dear — she went 
away with Rafaelo this morning quite early — and 
took all her jewels. (Crosses up.) 

Eddie. (Coming down) Never mind. Dad. 

Wilton. Impossible! 

(Connors enters r.uJ 

Wilton. Connors, I want to see Albertine. 

Connors. She's gone, sir. 

Wilton. Gone? 

Connors. Yes, sir. She left shortly after Mrs. 
Wilton went out, sir. She had Mrs. Wilton's rough 
coat, and two suitcases. She called a cab and never 
said a word to anybody. 

Wilton. Who brought down the suitcases for 
her? 

Connors. Nagakura. 

Wilton. See if he heard where the cab man was 
told to drive. 

Connors. He did, sir — he said it was to some 
boat. 

Wilton. Get me a newspaper. 

Clarence. (Gets paper from table) Here you 
are— shall I look, Mr. Wilton? 

Wilton. Yes — please. 

Clarence. (Reading nervously) Help — help 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 85 

wanted — boats — navigation — Norwich Line — 3 
North River. 

Eddie. (Crossing to Clarence. Looking in pa- 
per) There you are — the Italia — sailing at noon. 

Wilton. I want the car at once, Connors. 

(Connors exits l.uJ 

Marguerite. (Crossing to Wilton r.cJ Father 
— you're not going after her? How can you, after 
what she did? You said yourself 

Wilton. What did I say? 

Marguerite. She gave you that drug, darling — 

READY curtain. 

Wilton. No, no — you misunderstood me. 

Marguerite. And I found the glass. It's her 
glass — from the amber set we gave her. You shan't 
go, Father. 

Clarence. Can I do anything? 

Wilton. Yes — see if you can find them. She 
must know that I'm not ruined — and that she can 
draw on me for whatever she needs. 

Clarence. You don't want me to bring her back, 
then? (Starts up l.) 

Wilton. What would be the use? Just wait a 
moment. (Goes to desk.) 

(As Wilton writes, Marguerite joins Clarence 

L.C.j 

Clarence. (To Marguerite^ I hope I'll behave 
as well as that when you run off with some one. 

Eddie. He's all broken up. Just imagine her go- 
ing off with that crazy Italian. 

Connors. (Entering l.v.) The car, Mr. Wilton. 



86 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

fWiLTON gives letter to Clarence, who hurries 

out L.U.J 

Wilton, (c.) I wish I hadn't waked up, really. 
CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Scene 2: The Same. 

At Rise: Discovered: Eddie, Marguerite and 
Julie. After a pause: 

Eddie. What's he doing now ? 

Marguerite. He's in her room. Dr. Broodie is 
with him. 

Julie. Do you mind if I stay, Marguerite, until 
Clarence comes ? 

Marguerite. No, dear — you don't mind our not 
talking ? 

READY auto. 

Julie. Oh, no — though it does seem just like a 
funeral. 

Eddie. Well, it is — in a way. 

Julie. Do you feel just terribly, Marguerite? 

Marguerite. Why, of course. We'd gotten used 
to Sweetie. She was really almost like one of the 
family — wasn't she, Eddie ? 

Eddie. Yes — she was a nice stepmother. But we 
didn't bring her up right. 

Marguerite. Now, after father gets over this — 
if he does — we may have the whole thing to go 
through again. Everyone wants to marry father, 
you know. Just suppose Katherine Longley should 
decide to, Eddie. 

87 



S8 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Julie. But she is married. 

Marguerite. I know, but if she decided to she 
would, some way. 

AUTO. 

Eddie. There's the car now. 

Marguerite. It's Clarence. (Exits l.v.) 

Julie. (Going to Eddie, who is r.J I haven't 
told you the dreadful thing that's happened to me. 

Eddie. What is it, Julie? 

Julie. Uncle Jerry says that if I marry you now, 
he'll cut me off in his will. 

Eddie. Because he lost some money — ^that wasn't 
my fault. I didn't know that my going- to work 
would create a panic on the Street. 

Julie. It wasn't so much that as your opening 
the windows in his office. He came home and had 
a chill, and made us all stand around his bedside 
while he recited things from the Bible, and then he 
told me about his will. 

Eddie. Never mind, dear. We don't need any 
one's money — we'll have our own — father won't be 
mean. 

(Enter Clarence and Marguerite l.uJ 

Clarence. Well — I found them. 

Eddie, (r. of c.) What did she say ? 

Clarence. I only saw Albertine. She made all 
sorts of excuses — and then she broke into French 
and so did I, and after that we neither of us under- 
stood each other. But what she said sounded per- 
fectly terrible. 

Eddie. What's that? A letter for father? 

Clarence. No — it's the same letter. Returned 
with thanks. Albertine dashed off with it and 
brought it back. 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 89 

(Enter Wilton and Doctor Broodie r.uJ 

Wilton. Did you find Mrs. Wilton? 

Clarence. No — I saw Albertine. She took the 
letter to Mrs. Wilton, and here it is. (Gives letter 
to Wilton. j 

Wilton. Oh! She has sent it back. I see! I 
see! 

(Enter Emmie hurriedly l.u. j 

Emmie. Oh, Harry — such a dreadful thing has 
happened. You must do something about it quickly 
— Pietro has been arrested. 

Wilton. (Dazed) And you — you Ve come back ? 

Emmie. Yes — he has all the money and the tick- 
ets, Harry. Do you think they will take them away 
from him in the station house? Oh, dear — just 
when I thought I had everything arranged so beau- 
tifully. 

Eddie. Good Lord ! 

Wilton. Now tell me — tell me all about it — and 
don't be afraid. 

Emmie. But how can I help it, Harry — when I 
think of Pietro — and all because he was so kind- 
hearted. 

Wilton. Oh — he was kind-hearted, was he? 

Emmie. Yes — ^you see, the traffic policeman was 
very angry with the driver at that place where you 
must go round the block and come back where you 
started — and he pulled his arm and the man lost 
his balance and fell, and Pietro jumped out of the 
cab and hit the policeman. 

Wilton. But where, where? 

Emmie. Right in the face, Harry. 

Wilton. Did you get off the boat? Was this 
after or before, or what? 



90 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Emmie. Off the boat! It was a cab. Harry — 
this was just after we had been to LTpdejohn's and 
he had given us the money for the jewels. 

Wilton. Was this on your way to the boat? 
Why, no, it couldn't have been. 

Emmie. Harry — what is it — Harry, are you ill? 

Marguerite. Of course he is — and you shan't 
excite him like this. 

Wilton. Yes, yes — I want to be excited — I want 
to understand. 

Emmie. Marguerite, why do you look at me like 
that? Don't let her look at me like that, Harry. 

Wilton. No — no — don't look at her, Marguerite 
— let her explain. 

Marguerite. (Taking glass from table) Yes — 
let her explain this. That dreadful drug you gave 
my dear father — do you deny that you gave it to 
him? 

Emmie. No, of course not. 

Marguerite. Then you don't deny it ? 

Wilton. Please, Marguerite, please go away. All 
of you, please go away, if you don't mind. 

(Exit Marguerite, Eddie, Clarence and Julie 

R.U.j 

Emmie, (c) Did it hurt you, Harry? 

Wilton. (^l.cJ Why, I couldn't wake up this 
morning — that's all. 

Emmie. But, Harry — I only gave you what I 
take. 

Wilton. What you take! 

Emmie. Yes — why, yes, Harry — but I'm used to 
it, you see. 

Wilton. You're used to it! 

Emmie. (Turning to Dr. Broodie r.c.j Tell 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 91 

him not to be worried, Dr. Broodie. Dr. Broodie 
gives it to me. 

Broodie. But, my dear, not in any such quantity 
« — how much are you taking? 

Emmie, (c.) Why, I don't measure it any more. 
I just pour in what I think is right. 

Wilton. Good Heavens, Broodie! 

Broodie. You don't understand the situation, Mr. 
Wilton. 

Wilton. No, I don't — I want you to explain it 
to me. 

Broodie. There's nothing to be worried about, 
Mr. Wilton. What can a doctor do ? Women clam- 
oring for help get on his nerves. 

Wilton. Then take something yourself, so you 
can't hear them — but don't — don't 

Emmie. Don't scold Dr. Broodie, Harry. And 
don't think that I have any habit — or anything like 
that. I never take it without deciding first that I 
could stop if I wanted to. 

Broodie. The society women of to-day are very 
nervous, Mr. Wilton. They try to do more than 
their vitality permits. They are high-strung, and 
if we didn't give them something to soothe them 

Wilton. They might amount to something. 

Broodie. No, Mr. Wilton. As a physician I pro- 
test that there is a place for drugs. I believe in 
them, properly administered. 

Wilton. So do L And the deadlier — the better, 
but give them to the right people. 

Emmie. Oh — do call up the police station, Harry 
— and get Pietro out. 

Broodie. Well, I don't think you'll need me any 
longer 

Wilton. No, I don't think we will. 

(Exit Broodie, l.u.j 



92 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Emmie. Do you think anything dreadful will 
happen to Pietro, Harry ? 

Wilton. Not while he stays in the police sta- 
tion. Why did you want me to sleep this morning? 

Emmie. I didn't. I wanted you to sleep last 
night. When you came into my room last night, 
you seemed so nervous, Harry. I knew you had 
been sitting by the fire and thinking, and when you 
were going to get a glass of water, I gave you what 
was in my glass. That was all. 

Wilton. But why didn't you tell me? 

Emmie. I was afraid you wouldn't take it, Harry, 
and I knew it would do you so much good. 

(PiETRo's voice is heard in the hall L.u.J 

Pietro. Mrs. Weelton — she is here? 

Emmie, ("l. of Wilton, who is c.) Oh — it's 
Pietro. (Runs out into hallway. Returns immedi- 
ately with roll of hills. Enter Pietro.j Harry — 
look ! Six thousand dollars, and I could have gotten 
lots more — but I wanted to consult you about it. 

Pietro. Good morning, Meester Weelton — I have 
been arrest in the police station — such a time — please 
excuse the delay. 

Emmie. I took Pietro with me, Harry, because 
he knows the man who runs the place awfully well 
— such a nice man, Harry. He just takes everything 
you've got and gives you money for it — then lets 
you have it back for a few cents. 

Wilton. Why, you dear child — you've been 
pawning your jewels for me? 

Emmie. Your jewels, Harry — you gave them all 
to me — and that was why I stopped. I thought 
there might be something you liked to see me wear. 
Is — is anything the matter, Harry ? I mean anything 
more than — just everything? 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 93 

Wilton. No — that's all. Just everything. . . . 

PiETRO. Meester Weelton, please — let me extend 
the hand of sympathy (Extending both hands.) 

Wilton. Certainly — which one is it? But if you 
refer to the business difficulty, that has all been 
fixed up. 

Emmie. Fixed up, Harry? 

Wilton. Yes — everything is all right. 

PiETRO. Then you are not rueened ? Splendeed ! 
Not rueened ! 

Emmie. Not ruined, Harry — you don't really 
mean that you're not ruined? 

PiETRO. Not rueened! 

Wilton. Don't keep saying it in concert, both 
of you — will you? 

Emmie. No — but not ruined! 

PiETRO. I am so happy for you, Meester Weelton. 

Wilton. Yes — yes — I'm sure you are — and I 
must thank you for all the trouble you went to in 
my behalf — the getting arrested and everything. 

Pietro. Oh, it was a great pleasure, Mr. Weelton. 
I hope you do not regret too much that Mrs. Weel- 
ton make the acquaintance of Meester Updejohn. 

Wilton. No, no. It's convenient at times to have 
a friend like Updejohn. 

Pietro. I find eet ees. And now I will say good- 
bye, Meester Welton. (Shakes hands.) Not rueened ! 
Good-bye, fair lady. (Kisses Emmie's hand and 
exits L.U.J 

Emmie. Harry — isn't it absurd — but you know, 
I'm a little disappointed that everything is all right. 

Wilton. W>11, we must try to make the best 
of it. 

Emmie. I saw such pretty chintz in a window — 
it would look ridiculous in this house — but it would 
have been so sweet in the abandoned farm. 

Wilton, (r. of t.) Well, we'll have it. We can 



94 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

afford it now — ^you know it takes more money to 
run an abandoned farm than any other kind. 

Emmie. (Turns to table, looking at letter) Is 
this letter for me, Harry? 

Wilton. It was — ^yes. 

Emmie. Let me see. (She takes the letter and 
reads it.) What does it mean, Harry? 

Wilton. It doesn't mean anything. They told 
me you had gone away with Rafaelo — think of my 
believing it. But you are both so young and it is 
such a beautiful morning 

Emmie. Leave you for Rafaelo? Why, I wouldn't 
leave you for anyone, Harry, especially when you're 
in trouble ! 

Wilton. I must manage to keep in trouble all 
the time. 

Emmie. (Reading) "Oh, my dear, if you ever 
regret, come back to me." What a wonderful love 
letter, Harry ! 

Wilton. Is it? 

Emmie. Oh, yes — may I have it? Who opened 
it, Harry? 

Wilton. Albertine. She went off with your 
steamer coat — they said, and all the trunks and hat 
boxes in the house. 

Emmie. I gave her the coat, Harry. It was wear- 
ing a little and I didn't know we were going to be 
ruined. Where has she gone? 

Wilton. I don't know, dear. Very likely she 
hasn't gone anywhere. She's probably upstairs. 
You can't believe anything people say. 

Emmie. She was going to Norwich to-day. Her 
sister has a new baby and I told Albertine she could 

go. 

Wilton. Norwich ! Clarence Rivers went to the 
wrong pier. He would, of course 



A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 95 

(Connors enters l.uJ 

READY curtain. 

Connors. Excuse me, sir. Mr. Rafaelo forgot 
to give you these. (Gives pawn tickets to Wilton. J 

Emmie. Oh, the tickets from Updejohn's. 

Wilton. Oh — yes, Updejohn's. Oh, Connors — 
one moment. Just a matter of business. I want to 
give you back your bank-book. 

Connors. (Hesitating) And is it true, sir, that 
everything is all right again? 

Wilton. Yes, yes, Connors — it's even more than 
that. 

Connors. I'm so glad, sir. 

Wilton. I know you are, and I can't tell you 
how I appreciate all you did. I wouldn't have missed 
it for the world. 

Connors. (Looking in bank book) But Mr. Wil- 
ton, there's some mistake, sir. I didn't have six 
thousand dollars in the bank. 

Wilton. Well, you see it was for safety. 

Connors. Safety, sir? 

Wilton. Yes — so that you'll have all the more 
to rescue me with should another calamity overtake 
me. 

Connors. Oh, Mr. Wilton, how good you are, 
sir, and what a happy day. And only to think how 
it started. 

Wilton. I'd rather not, Connors, if you don't 
mind. (Exit Connors.J 

Emmie. You forgave me, Harry! Oh, it's won- 
derful to be forgiven, even if you haven't done any- 
thing. 

Wilton. I'd like to be forgiven, too. if you don't 
mind. 

Emmie. I'm so happy, Harry. But of course 
happiness isn't everything. 



96 A SUCCESSFUL CALAMITY 

Wilton. What is? 
Emmie. I don't know 



Wilton. Well, I don't. Let's let it go at hap- 
piness. 

CURTAIN 



THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The lamotu cemedr ta three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2H hours. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt 
Mary," "Jack," her lirely nephew; "Lucinda," a New England an- 
cient maid of all work; "Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" Iotcs; 
"Joshua," Aunt Mary's hiccd man, etc 

**Avat Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on teur 
for OTCT two years, and it is sure to be a bif success whererer pro- 
ihiead. We stroagly recomincad it. Price, 6Q Cents. 



MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

A pleaitAfir cocncdy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of 
"Tke Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. 
C<Mtt]mc< modern. Plays 2^ hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising 
from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude 
p«x>plcd by hyphenated names — ^a therae permitting innumerable com- 
pUcatioBs, according to the spirit of the writer. 

This most successful comedy wa* toured for several seasons by Mrs. 
Fiske with cnoitoous success. Price, 60 Cents. 



MRS. TEMPLE'S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and Wfl- 
liam Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands through- 
out the three acts. Costumes modem. Plays 2yi hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there ia 
aa abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or anT •!•- 
ment of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a 
tanglod web we weave when first we practice to deectve." 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time 
the curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun ia fast and 
forions. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. 



THE NEW CO-ED. 

A eoocdy in four acta, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest aad 
Stpuhiae," etc Characters, 4 males, 7 females, thoogh any aumber 
•f boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One 
taterier and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one inte- 
rior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 

The theme <J this play is the coming o£ a new student to the oel- 
Icfc, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 

There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and 
Bstdle, but the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Dooliitle and 
Gaorge Washington Watta, a gentleman of color, are two particularly 
mod comedy characters. We eaa strongly recommend "The New 
Co>Ed" to high schools and amatears. Price, 30 Csnta. 

(T>ia Above Art Subject to Royalty Whon Prodiieail) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, IS- JO West Mtli StrmH, New York CMy 

mm Mi ExiMctt DtscriiNlff Citatopi MifM Frtt ii i 



FRENCH'S 

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